The Way Things Should Be
by aphelant
Summary: Part One of 'Can't Go Home Again'. **THIS IS A DEAD WIP! Read at your own peril.** Set after Showtime. Alternate Season 7. Slight crossover. BS, mostly, but XAnya, AC, and, yeah. For those who care: Willow finds a prophecy about the end of days.
1. Homecoming

__

Pretty much just imagine that Joss' Buffy world ended with the rescuing of Spike at the end of 'Showtime'. After that point, I've pretty much gotten angry with the way things have been going. I mean, 'Potential' pretty much sucked ass. And I don't really like the way the writers have made Spike more weak than Williamy, so I'm fixing it. Mwahahahahaha!!!!!! Go me! Yeah, so, enjoy. ; )

The night was cool as the Scooby gang descended upon the Summers residence. The house was in disarray - the front door was broken, furniture was smashed, and the overall feel was that a plethora of evilness had stormed the casa. Oh, wait…

Willow sighed as she righted the coat tree. They were really going to have to find a way to protect the house from the ravages of the Bringers. Her hands trembled as she tried to straighten the sweaters and jackets that hung precariously to their perch. She was still shaken from the night's activities, having watched in silence as her best friend fought the Ubervamp to the death. The night would be a lot better, she decided, if she just tried to get some sleep for once. 

Kennedy came up beside Willow and tugged on her elbow, thinking the same thing. She smiled concernedly up at the witch, and Willow returned it with a tiny upturn of her mouth. 'Good enough for me,' Kennedy thought, and pulled Willow to the stairs.

In the living room, Dawn and the potential Slayers, Rona, Chloe and Vi were putting the room back together, vacuuming the broken glass and splinters of wood from the floor and their makeshift beds. Dawn was at work replacing fallen pictures, resetting them in their usual places on the mantle and the side table. 

One was particularly destroyed, glass shattered and frame bent, the one of her and Buffy together, donning matching skating outfits and waving back at the cameraperson. Had it been their mom or their dad? It had been so long since those happy days, she couldn't even remember. 'Besides,' she reminded herself, 'it never really happened, did it?' Angrily, Dawn tossed the picture and frame into the box marked "Fixables" and grabbed a broom to help with the cleanup. 

Anya busied herself in the kitchen cooking up some tiny delectables for their young boarders to devour. Well, cooking is really an overstatement - she was opening bags of frozen fries and breaded shrimp and chicken strips and dumping them onto baking sheets to stuff in the oven. Then she started mixing different salsas and other such dipping substances to give the snack some pizzazz. 

She was congratulating herself when Xander walked in, tossing his jacket on one of the chairs and mumbling to himself about the manners of evil, eyeless men and that they should be more careful not to break down doors that could just as easily have been opened by turning the doorknob. He began to dig through the kitchen drawers, not hesitating to emphasize his tirade with clanging metal and slamming wood.

Anya, slightly perturbed at the abundance of noise being caused by her ex-fiancée, said, "You know Xander, slamming around in the kitchen is only going to result in the breaking of more of Buffy's things, so if you don't want to fix anything more, just finish the job you're working on."

Xander slammed one final drawer with a calming sigh. "An, I'm _trying_ to fix the door, but I don't have any of my tools with me right now and I need a screwdriver." He grabbed his coat and shrugged it back on. Anya frowned.

"Where are you going?" she demanded.

Xander shot her a tired look. "I'm not gonna leave the door hanging off its hinges while Buffy and Dawn and all the Slayerettes are trying to get a good night's sleep. I'll just…feel _safer_ when I've got it all fixed up."

"Oh," she replied. "Well, then, I guess you should hurry along. I'm going to make sure the girls get to bed soon so they can have a nice long rest after their exciting yet frightening evening." The oven dinged then, and Anya bent to remove the trays of snacks before they burnt. 

"Don't worry though, Xander, I won't leave until you or Buffy come back. I wouldn't want to leave the girls unattended." The pair shared a look, his grateful for her understanding and selflessness, hers proud of it.

"Just be careful, k? The First might be pissed that Buffy killed his buddy and do something revenge-like." She nodded her agreement as she scraped her delicacies onto plates for the girls.

"You too."

Her unexpected voicing of even the slightest concern for him made Xander sigh inwardly. God, he missed her. And it wasn't just the fact that they were no longer together, she had become so quiet and vengeful that she didn't even seem like the same woman anymore. Of course, that didn't make him love her any less.

Xander turned and headed for the back door, pulling it open to find coming up the porch stairs a tired-looking Buffy dragging beside her an even more tired-looking Spike.

Buffy groaned under the weight of her baggage as Spike thoroughly stumbled on the stairs, nearly toppling them both to the ground. "Xander, a little help here?" Buffy gasped out. Slack-jawed, shaking his head as if trying to wake himself from some nightmare, he rushed out to carry Spike on the other side. Together they dragged a barely conscious peroxide-blond vampire into the kitchen, propping him up on a chair.

"My God, Buffy, what did it do to him?" Anya asked, a spatula in one hand and an oven mitt on the other. Buffy didn't even notice her friend's strange appearance as she busied herself checking out his wounds.

"I-I'm not really sure," she admitted, voice shaking slightly as she took in the full tattered state of her ex-lover. His head lolled back, exposing the untouched white skin of his neck, the only part of his body that seemed unmarred with cuts or bruises. Her fingers traced one of the large gouges on his chest, wet blood and clotted blood both adhering to her warm touch. Spike hissed in pain as she grazed a fresh scratch and she barked at Xander to help her get him to her room.

Xander grabbed Spike's legs and Buffy lifted him under the arms and they headed to the front stairs. As they rounded the corner, Anya close on their heels, the teens in the living room finally realized that there was something intriguing going on in their midst. Dawn gasped in horror as she realized what was happening.

"Spike!" she ejaculated, rushing to her friend, trying to see his face. "Holy shit," she murmured when she saw the bloody pulp that was left of her confidante. "Is he dead?" she squeaked, tugging at Anya's sleeve. 

Anya turned and frowned at Dawn. "Of course not. If Spike was dead, they'd be carrying him in an ashtray, wouldn't they?" Though her reply was meant to be condescending and result in the girl heading back downstairs, Anya was dismayed to realize that Dawn was now pressing closer to her in an effort to see for herself that he truly was not dead. Behind them, the other girls were following timidly, unsure of what was going on but not wanting to miss out on any of the excitement.

Buffy kicked her door open behind her, and she and Xander manhandled Spike onto the bed. His deathly pale skin starkly contrasted the blue of her bedspread. In the hall, Anya muttered something about getting the first aid kit, but Buffy wasn't listening. She had left the vampire's side and was digging in her closet, tossing clothes on the floor left and right. Xander backed away, a concerned frown creasing his brow as he watched his best friend tear her room apart.

"Ah, Buff, what are you doing?" he asked her. She found what she was looking for and pulled an old quilt from her closet. Buffy dragged it over to the bed and began unfolding it. Dawn overcame her fear of Spike's death and joined her sister in wrapping him in the quilt. Anya entered the room then with the first aid kit, followed closely by Willow.

As Buffy and Anya began cleaning and dressing Spike's wounds, Willow saw his condition and gasped. "Oh, God, Spike!" she whispered. Beside her, Dawn was absently stroking the vampire's bleached blond hair, twirling his unruly curls around her fingers. Gently, the witch tugged the teen from her friend, and silently led all the girls back downstairs. With one last glance at his friends (and the guy he puts up with), Xander followed Willow out and closed the door behind him.

On the bed, Buffy poured peroxide on Spike's lacerations and Anya butterfly-bandaged them. They worked together silently - the women weren't really friends, but they both were part of the Scooby gang and cared about the wounded vampire in their own ways.

"If you want, I can go to the blood bank and pick something up for him," Anya offered. Buffy looked at her blankly.

"We have pig's blood here," she replied.

"Human blood will help him heal faster," Anya replied. "Pig's blood might not even be enough. His wounds are bad."

Buffy looked back at her patient, white as snow, still as death. If human blood would heal him better, he'd have it. And he'd have the best.

"Okay," she agreed, "but I don't think you'll be able to get any tonight." Buffy proceeded to roll up the sleeve of her shirt. She reached under her bed and dragged out a knife. "You might want to leave now."

Anya glanced from Buffy to the knife and back again before heading to the door. Behind her Buffy held her arm over Spike's prone body and pressed the blade against her left wrist. Anya paused at the door and turned back.

"You're making the right decision. Don't doubt that." With that final bit of encouragement, the ex-demon went downstairs to join the rest of the house. The door closed soundly behind her.

Buffy paused as she held the knife in position against her pulsing veins. This was not the ideal way for her to get good, healing blood into the wounded vampire, but it was the only thing she could do for him. 'Anya says he needs this, so I'll give it to him,' she reasoned with herself. She could feel her pulse begin to race at the idea of inflicting a wound on herself. She'd provided blood to two different vampires before, but that had come in the form of bites. If this wound scarred, it would look suspicious, suicidal. But this was a matter of life and death. She would deal with the consequences later.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Buffy pressed the blade into her wrist. She bit back the pained moan that threatened to escape her throat. Red liquid oozed out of her wound and pooled around it, threatening to spill onto the quilt. Using her knife hand she tugged on Spike's chin, opening his mouth enough for her life to drip onto his tongue. A few precious beads dropped and awakened his mouth to her taste. 

Instinctually, he swallowed them down. Encouraged by his reaction, she sliced her wrist deeper and pressed the wound to his mouth. His lips latched on of their own volition and he began drinking from her, his saliva working to prevent the wound from clotting. Buffy rested the knife on her bed side table and tried to make herself comfortable. The sounds of his drinking were a little disturbing to her. She almost wished that it was his fangs and not his tongue on her skin. 

She was frightened to realize he was not shifting into game face, apparently too weak to perform even that basic task. With her free hand she tugged the quilt up around him, wrapping him in it as best she could. Buffy wanted him to feel safe and warm, protected. She didn't want to think of the nightmares that he might have if he felt like he was still in that cold, cruel cave. 

Tentatively she touched his face. A soft, simple touch, one meant to soothe him but more than likely soothed only herself. She felt guilty for this. Somehow if she had been more careful, more dedicated, more prepared, he wouldn't have been taken from them. She still remembered the shock she'd felt when the house was attacked by the Bringers. How foolish of her to assume that she was the focus of the attack! And he had suffered for it. It seemed he was always suffering for her mistakes…

Buffy blinked back tears and realized that she was beginning to feel dizzy from the blood loss. Gently she eased her wrist from his mouth and almost chuckled to see the way he unconsciously struggled to capture it again. In that moment, Spike seemed so utterly vulnerable, so weak, and she couldn't help but be reminded of the way baby Dawn had once keened for their mother's nipple. Breastfeeding Spike…and that opened a can of eww, and she gave herself a mental slap.

She wrapped her wrist in bandages, making a note to clean the anti-coagulant from the wound after she debriefed the gang. Taking a Kleenex, she wet it with her tongue and dabbed Spike's mouth, wiping away the blood that had collected there. Once he was clean, Buffy checked to make sure the blinds were drawn and that he was securely wrapped in the quilt before deciding that he was safe enough for the time being. 

Quietly she moved from the room, doing one last safety sweep and mental checklist before pulling the door behind her. She left it open a crack, afraid that he would wake and call for her and she wouldn't hear. Her eyes rested on his tormented face once more before heading down the stairs to face the barrage of questions she knew awaited her.


	2. The View From the Mirror

Buffy left the gang chatting over hot cocoa and meandered into the bathroom. The talk had gone better than she had expected. Most of the girls seemed willing to accept that Spike was a 'good, souled vampire' and not the evil nasty kind they were chosen to kill. She had explained his history, what little of it she knew, and translated his role in the First's plans for the apocalypse as the Scoobies understood it. 

She turned the cold water tap on and scooped water onto her face. It stung her cheek where she still sported an open wound from her fight with the Ubervamp. Buffy watched the water drip off the tip of her nose and slide effortlessly towards the drain. Gravity was pulling it down to the black hole of the sewers. _Why can't I be guided like that?_ Suddenly frustrated with her thought, she yanked a towel off the rack and dried her face. _Take that, stupid gravity!_

Carefully she began to unwind her bandaged wrist. Turning the water from cold to warm she thrust her wound beneath the steady stream and rubbed it. Satisfied that it was as clean as it would get, she opened the vanity and took out some healing supplies. Buffy dabbed her wrist with peroxide and then wrapped fresh bandages around it. Then she cleaned the wound on her cheek and taped it up with butterfly bandages. She knew it would be healed by tomorrow, but she figured open wounds might irk the newbies.

Finished with her ministrations she packed up the first aid kit and returned it to the vanity. When she closed its door she was greeted with her own reflection. Buffy gasped in shock at the woman staring back at her. She was bleary-eyed from lack of sleep, streaks of red shooting towards her irises. Her face was pale and drawn, probably from a combination of lack of appetite and the bloodletting that had occurred earlier. Her lips, usually soft and smooth, were thin pink lines, white where the skin was peeling from her lack of lip balm use. 

Buffy could see her collarbones sticking out as she scrutinized her body. Buffy traced her fingers across the ridges she hadn't seen since she had been brought back from Heaven and wondered when the last time was she'd had a decent meal. It seemed even her clothes were not healthy - blood splatter covered her from head to toe, a mixture of her own and those of the two vampires she had tended to tonight. _Another outfit on its way to the dump._

Feeling the sudden urge to find what else had changed about her body, she stripped down to her underwear and backed up to see herself better in the small mirror. There were small cuts and scratches littering her body. Along her arms, legs and torso bruises had begun to form. Some were faint and blue, others were large and green, but either way she knew they'd all eventually hurt. 

She turned to the side and saw how her shoulder blades jutted out her back and ran her hands down her sides and counted each of her ribs. Buffy's waist was unusually tiny and her legs reminded her of those girls she'd watch on those talk shows who never ate. Anorexic, that's what they were. She looked anorexic.

Silently she stepped out of her thong and unhooked her bra, watching them lay together on the white tile floor. Her thoughts floated back to that night, so long ago; the turning point of things to come. She remembered screaming, the sound of ripped cloth, the feel of his cold hands on her body, trying to make her love him. _"I could never trust you enough to love you." _

But hadn't she? She had trusted him with her family and friends, trusted him to protect Dawn after she died, trusted him enough to tell him she'd been ripped from Heaven. She trusted him with her life. And he'd tried to rape her. Well, maybe it wasn't quite rape…he was angry, confused, and hurt. He was trying to make her see. But she hadn't seen the love, she'd seen the demon.

Buffy stepped into the shower and turned the water on. She closed her eyes as the wet heat washed over her, warming her to the bone. Sighing, she rested her head on the still cool wall tiles. _Don't think about the past, think about the future._ She tried to concentrate on a plan, some way to defeat the First. Train the girls to fight, help Willow get her mojo back, get Andrew to close that seal under the school, find out why Principal Wood had a shovel… _Too tired, no thinking._

Slowly, Buffy squirted some shampoo onto her palm and began massaging it into her hair. This shower was the only thing separating herself from reality, and she was going to make it last. As her hair began to lather, her mind wandered off. _"You hated yourself and took it out on me." _Why was he always right? _Damn him!_ Angry now, she turned her face up into the hot stream and let its pressure wash away the suds. She sighed as she felt the heat of the water begin to soothe her aching muscles.

Gently, ever so gently, a cold hand touched her back. Buffy shivered at the sensation, ice in the fire of the shower. The fingers traced lazy circles up to her neck, then dipped into her hair. Both hands began stroking her golden locks, easing out the last of the shampoo. Then they began meandering down her body, massaging her lightly with just the tips of the fingers. As the hands found her narrow waist, a cold body pressed against her back. She moaned as her skin jumped, coming alive at the touch. 

The hands slipped around her and the fingers splayed across her stomach. She yearned for more, but kept silent, enjoying the unhurried display of affection. Slowly the hands made their way down her legs. Buffy felt her heart begin to race and a heat emanating from her core. Lips brushed against her earlobe and she gasped. "Oh, God…" she whispered. The fingers brushed her knees and began sliding back upwards. They danced along the inside of her thighs and she unconsciously spread her feet a little wider, anticipating their next move. 

While the right hand continued up past her hip, the left stayed squeezing the leg just below her womanhood. Then, unexpectedly, a finger slid inside her. She hissed at the sudden feel of its coolness inside her heat, and leaned against the solid body behind her. The lips trailed down her neck and she felt blunt teeth nip at her as the fingers began pumping to their own beat. The other hand grasped her breast and alternated from kneading it to rolling her raised nipple between its fingers. A lustful moan escaped her lips as she felt the pressure building inside her. 

Buffy reached over her shoulder and buried her fingers in wet hair. At her touch, the nibbling teeth bit down hard and she cried out, arching against the stroking fingers. Her breathing was now ragged, and she felt her legs begin to tremble with need. Once again, the lips found her ear, and a cold cheek rested against her shoulder. She twirled the short hair in her fingers, in rhythm with the thrusts. A tongue dipped quickly into her ear, and then a husky voice spoke. "Cor, love, you're so beautiful."

Buffy gasped as she woke. The water was freezing cold and her skin was unbelievably numb. She scrambled to turn the water off, and as it died down, she heard her laboured breathing echo in the bathroom. _What the Hell was that?!_ Shaking, she stepped out of the shower and wrapped her fluffy cotton robe around her body. She realized that she must have been so tired that she'd fallen asleep while resting her head against the wall. And she hadn't even washed herself yet! 

Roughly dragging her brush through her hair, she tried to concentrate on loosening the knots and not the throbbing between her legs. 'How does he keep doing this to me?' she asked herself. But before she could ponder the question any further, she heard glass breaking downstairs. Buffy froze, brush in mid-stroke, and focused all her Slayer senses on the sounds coming from downstairs. 

Silently she emerged from the bathroom and made her way down the stairs. Was it the Bringers coming back for Spike? Well, she'd be damned if she let them take him again, and it had _nothing_ to do with her feelings for him. Wait, feelings? Christ, what was wrong with her?! Giving herself a mental slap, she reached the bottom of the stairs and paused. 

Buffy slipped a sword out of the umbrella stand and walked silently to the closed kitchen door. Cautiously, she raised the sword and pressed her palm against the solid wood, slowly sliding it open, watching it disappear into the wall. She crept forward, senses on alert, and reached for the light switch.


	3. Sleep

"Aaaaaarghhh!"

"Woah!"

The tip of Buffy's sword stopped inches from Willow's nose. The redhead stood in front of the garbage can, pieces of a shattered glass in hand. Her eyes were wide, frightened pools of green.

"B-Buffy? Umm, sorry about the glass, was it, like, your f-favorite?" Willow squeaked.

Sighing, Buffy relaxed and let the sword fall to her side. "Sorry Wills, I heard the glass breaking and I thought, 'Bringers'," she explained. Willow nodded emphatically.

"Oh, that's okay. I'm all intact. A-and I know how stressed you are about this whole thing." Dumping the glass in the trash can, she gave the Slayer a sympathetic look. She knew how worried her best friend was when the Bringers had taken Spike right from under their noses. She even suspected that Buffy hadn't been sleeping since the unexpected abduction.

"Stressed? Who's stressed? Not me, nuh-uh, nope. I'm the image of non-stress," Buffy denied. She flicked her still wet hair over her shoulder and smoothed the creases in her robe. _I'm not stressed, just…um…not stressed!_

"Hey, I've got an idea! Why don't you go to bed, get some well-deserved rest, and let me take care of the house," Willow suggested.

"Can't, I've got to take care of Spike."

"I can take care of Spike! I'll stay up all night with him and watch for baddies and in the morning I can get breakfast ready -"

"Wills, you don't have to do that. He's my responsibility and this is my house and I'm the Slayer and -"

"Hey, don't give me the 'I've got the weight of the world on my shoulders' speech, 'cause I've heard that one already. Just, let me do this for you, alright? Besides, you need to rest so you can train the girls tomorrow."

Buffy sighed and looked at the witch. "Okay, I give. But if you hear anything suspicious, or if Spike wakes up, or if you get really sleepy and can't keep your eyes open -"

"I'll wake you up," Willow finished. "Don't worry, Buff, I can handle this." She turned the blond around and gave her a gentle push out the door. Buffy looked back over her shoulder as she walked away, an unreadable look on her face. 

'Why doesn't she trust me?' the witch wondered. _Oh yeah, maybe it has something to do with trying to kill her last May._ With a sigh, Willow began the ritual of locking up the house for the night. She made sure all the windows were shut and the doors were locked and the lights were off before heading upstairs to her room. Or, rather, to the room she shared with Tar - Kennedy. _I share the room with Kennedy now._

She slipped through the door and gathered up the things she would need to pull an all-nighter. Her pyjamas, a blanket, her fuzzy pink bunny slippers (that Anya vehemently insisted Willow not wear while she was anywhere near her) and her books. About to change her clothes, Willow's eyes fell on the sleeping form of the slayer in training sprawled in her bed. 

Kennedy's long brown hair lay on the pillow, sweeping out from her face, and giving the illusion of a halo round her head. Her small mouth was worried into a pout, and Willow was drawn to it. She took a step forward, watching the other woman's chest rise and fall with every breath. Up, down, up, down… 'Stop it!' her head screamed. 

She snatched up her bundle, pyjamas and all, and hurried out of the room. _Tara's only been dead a few months and you're already imagining the lips of someone else?!_ Willow crossed the hall and paused outside Dawn's door. She could hear light snoring coming from somewhere inside the younger girl's room and peeked her head in. 

Everyone had agreed that since Buffy's room was currently being occupied by an unconscious vampire, their other guests would sleep here with Dawn for the time being. But Willow was surprised to find that Buffy had crawled into bed with her sister, a protective arm across the teen's stomach. Why she hadn't found herself a nice spot on Willow's floor she couldn't say, but it was nice to see the Summers girls looking like sisters for a change. 

Closing the door gently, she made her way down the hall to Buffy's room and let herself in. It was deathly quiet in the room, the only sound being Willow's steady breathing echoing in the silence. She put her belongings on the floor and spread out the blanket, making herself a nice comfy spot to lay on. 

Casting a glance at Spike and ensuring that he was indeed unconscious, Willow stripped out of her day clothes and into her night ones. Slipping her bare feet into her slippers she plopped down on her make-shift bed and spread out her books. 

Spectres and Ghouls (a 'complete guide' to otherworldly visitors), _Vampyres _(a history), _The Codex Prophecies _(a collection of prophecies gathered by the Watcher's Council regarding the rise of a powerful vampire army), and _Anne of Green Gables_…oh, that must be in the wrong pile…

Putting on her resolve face, Willow went to work on the first book, _Spectres and Ghouls_, and began searching for anything involving Dawn's visitor. The girl insisted that she hadn't been visited by the First and that it was in fact her mother bringing her a message from the grave. 

Though she wouldn't relay the exact message, Dawn did admit that it had something to do with this apocalypse. And because she had used a spell to vanquish some kind of demony thing that was silencing Joyce's 'spirit', Willow felt it was important to find out exactly what it was that had happened, if only to appease the teen's concerns.

Finding nothing in the so-called 'complete' guide, she tossed it aside and dove into _Vampyres_. Willow didn't really expect to find anything regarding the Ubervamp and why the First wanted to release it from the seal, especially since this was a history book strictly on vampires, but it was worth a try.

Two hours later she had skimmed through the entire book and, aside from an interesting passage regarding a vampire who was forcibly en-souled by a clan of Romanian gypsies, the book was entirely useless. It was cast aside and Willow pulled the smallest book into her lap. _The Codex Prophecies_ was only about one hundred pages and seemed much too small to be of any real help, but she figured she should cover all her bases.

She flipped through it quickly, skimming each prophecy for its mechanics. '_Upon the sacrifice of a small child, a portal will open' …no… 'On the second day of solstice, the sun shall be blotted out by the moon' … umm, really no… 'When the Warrior rises, the Prophet shall come, and together they will lead the forces of Light against the forces of Dark and the source of all evil…wait a minute, the source of all evil? _Excited, Willow read the prophecy from beginning to end, putting the pieces together in her mind.


	4. Orders

The Emergency Scooby Meeting began just after 7:30. Willow had made breakfast, as promised, for a house of eleven. Everyone sat around the Summers' dining table with glasses of orange juice and plates of syrupy pancakes.

Buffy sat at the head of the table and called the session to order. The entire house put down their forks and all eyes trained on her. She stood and cleared her throat before beginning her arduous task.

"We've been through a lot together these last few weeks," she began, "but I'm afraid it's just the beginning." Buffy lifted a book from the table and flipped it open. "As most of you know, last night I fought and defeated the Turok-Han. I rescued Spike from the First and brought him back here." 

She groaned inwardly as Giles removed his glasses and began cleaning them. Everything had happened so quickly, she hadn't informed her Watcher of any of this. He was most likely upset with her for not only fighting alone, but for bringing the vampire who can be mind-controlled by their current foe into her home.

"Willow did some research last night," Buffy continued, "and she believes she's found a prophecy regarding…this whole thing." She handed the book to the redhead, who stood up nervously.

"See, there's a prophecy here that kind of seems similar to what's going on. It talks about a Warrior rising," Willow looked at Buffy, "the source of all evil, and a demon who earns a soul."

"Spike," Dawn clarified.

"Yeah, I think so."

Giles replaced his glasses on the bridge of his nose and stood, crossing to Willow. "May I?" he asked, gesturing to the book. Wordlessly she handed the text to him and turned to face Xander, who had raised his hand. Feeling uncomfortably like a teacher, Willow called on him.

"Ok, I know Fang Boy's gone all soulful and stuff, but he's not the only vamp with an 'inner light'. I mean, this prophecy could be talking about Angel."

"No," Buffy explained, "Angel didn't earn his soul, it was a punishment. Spike went out and sought his soul. He…fought for it, and won."

This time it was Kennedy who spoke up. "Well, it doesn't say it's a vampire, right? It could be any demon who earned a soul." Willow, nodded, but her eyebrows were drawn together in thought.

"Technically, yes, but we have to take into account the rest of the prophecy. Exactly how many times has anyone fought the source of all evil? I'm thinking none."

"What's this part here?" Giles asked. He tapped a page in the book with the arm of his glasses, which he'd removed once again. "It says here '_When the Warrior rises, the Prophet shall come_'…who might this Prophet be?"

Anya shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Well, um, I heard a tale, about a Prophet, who shall see…the end of the world as we know it." Everyone turned their attention to the ex-vengeance demon.

"Go on," Buffy prodded.

Looking uncertain for a moment, she continued. "The Prophet is supposed to be a messenger, from the Powers That Be, you know, all chosen and stuff. He's said to have great knowledge, and even his own personal 'fallen angel' kind of bodyguard thing."

"That doesn't sound so bad to me," Rona said. The other Slayerettes nodded in agreement.

"Yeah," added Molly, "this bodyguard guy could help us fight!" Excited whispers began to circulate around the room.

"Um, you'd think, but…"

"Anya?" Buffy could see the concern in the woman's face, and motioned to the others for silence.

Anya cleared her throat. "I also heard that, well, theProphetdoesn'tsurvive!" she gushed out as quickly as she could.

Xander shook his head. "I'm sorry, what?"

"The Prophet will die before the final battle. The Powers That Be lose their player and the world loses it's angelic warrior guy."

Silence fell over the room. This prophecy no longer held the hope so many of them needed. Buffy scanned the room and looked at the faces of her friends. Everywhere she looked she saw apprehension, concern, worry, and, yes, even fear. This was her army. A bunch of children, an ex-demon, a witch, a librarian, a carpenter, a glowing ball of energy, and…Andrew.

"You," Buffy said, addressing the blonde male tied to the chair at the end of the table whom Dawn was feeding since his arms were bound.

Andrew's eyes went a little wide and he swallowed the mouthful of pancakes he'd been working on. "Um, m-me?"

"Yeah, you. As much as I'd love to keep you tied up like that for the rest of eternity, I think you could be useful, if only on the research level." Andrew's eyes went even wider, but with surprise now, not fear.

"Oh, I'm totally useful! Yep, useful is my middle name. Andrew Useful…" His rambling slowed to a stop as he noticed that almost everyone was glaring at him. With a tentative smile, he asked, "What can I do to help?"

Crossing her arms on her chest, Buffy went into full Slayer mode. "Okay, first of all, I want to know everything there is about this prophecy. Andrew, you can look on the Net for anything pertaining to a Prophet or a fallen angel warrior. Giles, Willow thinks this isn't the complete version of the prophecy, so maybe you can look in some books or maybe give Wesley a call. He's read a lot of books and Cordelia was a Higher Power and Angel's…all old and stuff." 

Turning to the rest of the table, Buffy addressed them as a group. "Xander and Anya both have jobs to go to, and everyone else is going to be busy, so you girls aren't going to train until I get home tonight. So, for the time being, I want you to familiarize yourselves with the weapons - sharpen swords, make stakes, whatever, just learn. Oh, and I want you guys to take hour-long shifts watching Spike. You don't have to do much, just sit there and watch for him to wake up. Don't forget to feed him, too." Vi's eyes went wide with fear for a moment. 

"Not from yourself!" Dawn chastised. "We've got some O neg in the fridge." 

Buffy rolled her eyes before continuing. "If anything happens, anything _remotely_ worth mentioning, I want you to call me at the school." With that, the room began dispersing.

Dawn began untying Andrew when Buffy called her. "I'm leaving in twenty, will you be ready by then?" she asked her sister. The brunette nodded, gathering the ropes as they fell to the ground.

Buffy then turned to her best friend, who was clearing the table. "Wills, I want you to get some sleep. You were up all night and then you made breakfast…you deserve to rest." A look of relief swept over Willow's face.

"Okay, good, 'cause I'm almost dead on my feet. Can you clean up the rest?" Buffy nodded and gave the other girl a warm hug before she descended on the breakfast dishes. 

Piling them all together, she took them into the kitchen and began stuffing them into the dishwasher. She could hear Giles in the living room, dialling the number to Angel Investigations. The front door closed, indicating that Xander and Anya had left. Andrew was prattling on about Star Wars and how the Prophet is probably like Luke Skywalker. _Why the Hell didn't I keep him gagged?_

Buffy headed upstairs to get ready for work. This job at the school had been a god-send, but sometimes she felt like there was something more to it. Nothing ever got handed to her on a silver platter this way, nothing. It was almost like there was something she was supposed to find there…

She found herself in her room, staring blankly at a closet full of clothes. Having no idea what she wanted to wear, she began sifting through her shirts and pants before settling on a white blouse and a pair of beige capris. Turning to her dresser she pulled out clean underwear, then grabbed her hairbrush and deodorant before heading for the bathroom. 

As she straightened, she glanced in the mirror and almost screamed when she saw her blankets move by themselves. She spun around and saw that Spike was lying there. _Duh Buffy! No reflection._ Sighing, she sat on the bed beside him and watched him sleep. He had begun to toss and turn, the beginnings of a nightmare coating his alabaster skin with sweat. 

Reaching out a hand she stroked his face, one smooth motion starting from the centre of his forehead, trailing down his cheek, and stopping once she was cupping his jaw. Buffy was surprised at how perfectly it fit against her palm, as if from the same mould. Gently she brushed her thumb against his lips and he sighed, her touch allowing him to slide into a comfortable sleep. Reluctantly, Buffy stood and headed for the bathroom.

When she turned, she realized someone had been watching her. "Kennedy? What are you doing here?" Buffy asked warily.

The young woman came forward, a mug of blood in her hands. "I'm taking the first shift. Thought he might like some breakfast." Kennedy stepped forward and dragged Buffy's desk chair next to the bed. Buffy returned to Spike's side and lifted his head so Kennedy could tip the warmed liquid into his mouth without spilling it all over the quilt.

Once his instincts had kicked in, the cup was soon drained and Buffy laid Spike's head to rest on the pillow. Taking a Kleenex, she repeated her motions from the night before, wetting it with her tongue and cleaning his face. Wordlessly, she deposited the soiled tissue in the garbage can. Buffy gathered her clothes and once again made her way to the door. Before she left, she turned back to do the standard safety check, then rested her eyes on the brunette.

"I expect him to be in one piece when I get home," Buffy stated.

"Don't worry, Buffy. I'll take good care of him," Kennedy replied.

Buffy nodded. "I know, just wanted to hear you say that." She smiled slightly, looking the slumbering vampire over once more, and added, "Thank you." With that, Buffy left his care in Kennedy's hands.


	5. Keeping Up Appearances

As the bedroom door closed, Kennedy turned her attention to the vampire left in her care. When she had first heard the others talking about Spike, she thought he'd be darker. Not evil dark, but hair dark. It was a shock when she'd finally laid eyes on him - his bleach-blond hair, pale skin… _But what colour are his eyes?_

Leaning forward, Kennedy brought a cautious hand to his angular face and lifted one of his eyelids. The unfocused orb was white like the rest of him, but the inner circle was a striking blue. _This is where oceans are formed_. Releasing his lid, she leaned back in the chair and looked around the room.

Her gaze took in some strange things. 'What is a grown woman doing with a stuffed pig on her dresser?' she mused. She got up from her perch and lifted it, admiring its curlicue tail and well-loved surface. It was obvious that this pig was Buffy's favourite. 

Dropping it back on the dresser, she made her way around the room, eyeing pictures, holding up clothes. What a Slayer would want with so many tight-fitting outfits Kennedy could not understand. On the desk she found, buried underneath assorted hair accessories and stray papers ('It's not snooping if it's on top!'), a chunky ring, oversized for a girl as petite as Buffy, and a little gothic in appearance. Lifting it up, she realized it was attached to a chain, one that also held a crucifix. _Weird_.

She laid it back down, stretching the chain into a long oval, ring on one end, cross at the other. They looked so strange together, those two charms, like different ends of the same spectrum. _Kinda like a Slayer and a vamp. What's up with these two anyway?_

Kennedy had witnessed the touching little scene between Buffy and Spike and wondered if there wasn't a _little_ more to their 'working relationship'. She didn't want to press, or poke her nose where it didn't belong…oh, who was she kidding? She'd ask Andrew as soon as her shift was up.

Sighing, she returned to the desk chair and slipped her book out from inside her jean jacket. Propping her feet up on the bed, Kennedy dove into _Anne of Green Gables_…

****

As the bedroom door closed, Buffy heard Dawn getting ready in the bathroom. Joining her sister, she too readied her toothbrush and began the morning ritual. Standing side-by-side, the blond and the brunette looked nothing alike. One was short, the other tall; one's hair was wavy, the other's straight; one had grown up too fast, the other hadn't really grown up at all.

But inside, they were as alike as any sisters could be. Fiery and passionate, brave and strong, loving and trusting, but fragile all the same. They were made of the same blood, and it was their bond.

Green eyes met blue in the mirror, and they smiled at each other around their toothbrushes. Completely in sync, they spit, rinsed, and spit again. The ritual complete, they cleaned up their mess and headed to Dawn's room.

Buffy closed the door behind them and immediately began changing into the clothes she had brought from her room. Dawn began rummaging in her closet and kept holding up outfits for her sister's approval.

"Nuh-uh," Buffy grimaced at a white cotton shirt and blue jeans.

"Right, too blah."

"Ummm…nope," Buffy replied to a frilly red shirt and black floods.

"Ok, too gothic, check."

"How 'bout this?" the older Summers suggested, holding up a long-sleeved, soft-shaded blue and purple swirled shirt and a knee-length, wide-hemmed dark blue jean skirt.

"Sure, looks good," Dawn assented. She changed out of her Bugs Bunny pyjamas and into her outfit while Buffy fussed with her make-up.

"How much is too much eyeliner?" she asked, dabbing at herself with the liquidy brush.

"You're asking me?" Dawn asked, eyes wide with surprise. Buffy turned around, a perplexed look on her face.

"Well, I just want to know if you think I look authoritative," she explained. "I've got a meeting with a new student today, she was expelled from her last school, and I want her to respect me, but not see me as…"

"…a teacher."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Hmmm…well, you always look authoritative to me. It's just that I know you better."

Buffy gave Dawn a sideways glance before turning to the mirror to assess her reflection. Behind her, Dawn began stuffing books and binders into her schoolbag before heading to the door.

"Just gonna grab my lunch from the fridge, then I'll be ready, k?"

"Yeah, be right down."

Grabbing up their dirty clothes, Buffy followed her sister downstairs and into the kitchen. While Dawn made her way to the fridge, Buffy headed to the basement door and tossed her bundle down the stairs. Her sister gave her an amused look, which she ignored. Grabbing her purse off the counter, she made her way to the front door, Dawn following close behind. The sisters stopped to wave at Giles, who gave them one of his trademark I'm-currently-occupied-at-the-moment looks, before walking out to the family SUV.

****

As the bedroom door closed, the other end of the phone finally picked up.

"Angel Investigations, hold please!" answered a very distraught sounding young woman.

"Erm, yes, of course I can - *click*…right then."

Giles was dismayed to discover that holding also required him to endure a touching rendition of 'Wind Beneath My Wings'. That song only brought bad memories to the Watcher.

"Ooh! Would you look at that…who knew Spike looked like General Tarkin!" exclaimed Andrew from his spot in front of Willow's laptop. Obviously, the young lad wasn't doing the correct research. Just as Giles was about to reprimand him, his torture was interrupted by the return of the girl on the line.

"Angel Investigations, sorry to keep you waiting," she greeted.

"Oh, that's quite alright. I gather it's quite busy at the moment?"

"Oh yes," she agreed, "we've been getting calls all day about ghosts in the attic and giant spiders and all sorts of ooky things…which you probably didn't need to hear about, what with your own supernatural sightings. You did call about a case, right?"

Rather amused at the girl's openness, Giles chuckled. "No, actually, I'm calling to speak with a Mr. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce."

"Oh! Oh…umm…ok, just…give me a second," the girl stammered.

Giles heard the click of the phone as it was placed on the counter, and the girl's voice could be heard in the background conversing with several men. Suddenly, the receiver was picked up and the girl had returned.

"May I ask who's speaking, please?" she asked in a very polite yet sweet voice.

"Certainly. I'm Rupert Giles."

Again, the phone was placed on the counter, but this time it was taken by the proper employee.

"Rupert?" a distinctly British Wesley asked.

"Hello, good to hear your voice again!" Giles replied.

"Oh, yes, certainly! What gives me the pleasure of this unexpected call? Oh, it is pleasant, isn't it?"

"More like business, really. We've finally determined what we're dealing with here, and it turns out the First Evil has returned to our fair town."

"How interesting! And how is that going for you?"

"Well…it's going all right, I suppose. We lost a potential slayer the other night. Ran off and got herself killed by the damned Turok-Han -"

"Potential slayer?" Wesley interrupted.

Giles sighed. He didn't want to give the ex-Watcher a play-by-play of the last few weeks. "It's not really why I called, Wesley."

"Oh, of course. Please, go on."

"I was wondering what you know about the Codex Prophecies."

There was a brief silence on the other end of the phone. Giles could picture him removing his glasses and placing the tip of one metal arm in the crook of his mouth, an action akin to his own habit of cleaning his glasses.

"Besides the fact that they are apocalyptic in nature and were compiled by the Council, I don't really know much about them."

"You wouldn't happen to know if there are any other - more complete - versions of them?"

Another pause. "I have some books in my apartment, I'll gladly peruse them if you'd like."

Buffy and Dawn waved at him as they headed out the door, and he half-heartedly nodded their way.

"Yes, that would be much appreciated."

"Of course. Anything in particular I should keep my eyes out for?"

"We're looking for any reference to 'The Prophet' or 'The Warrior' in context with a fallen angel figure."

"All right." Giles heard papers being shuffled and the scratch of a pen. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" Wesley asked.

"No, no, that's it. But it seems like you've got your hands full out there. Anything I can help _you_ with?"

Wesley sighed, a tired and frustrated sound that echoed over the phone line. "We just recently got Cordelia's memory back, and now she's holed herself up in her room. She saw something that seems to have traumatized her a tad…I'm sure she'll get over it. And the elevated supernatural activity isn't helping either. But that will pass as well, I'm sure."

"I'm glad that Cordelia's feeling…well, I suppose she's not _feeling_ much better is she? Well, I'm glad that her memory's been restored, at least."

"As are we."

"Well, do let me know how your research goes."

"Of course, Rupert."

"Shall I expect to hear from you soon?"

"Count on it. Say hello to everyone for us!"

"Oh, yes, and you too."

The two men hung up their phones and unknowingly assumed identical poses of deep thought and reflection.

****


	6. Introductions

Buffy sank into her desk chair and swept the hair out of her eyes. Her smallish cubicle was bland and dark, but a huge improvement from the grease and smell of the infamous Doublemeat Palace. She lifted a manila folder from her inbox and flipped it open.

_Jade Harder, huh?_ Buffy scanned the pages in front of her. The girl was seventeen and had been kicked out of three other high schools before arriving here. Skipping class, arson, and fighting…nice reputation. 

Her eyebrows quirked upwards as she realized this girl sounded a lot like her. 'Hmmm, maybe it won't be so hard to talk to this girl after all,' she thought. Putting on her resolve face, Buffy stepped around the beige wall and found herself standing before the school's newest student.

Jade glared contemptuously at Buffy, her arms crossed in silent defiance. Buffy smiled brightly at the unhappy teen and ushered her into the 'office'.

Jade plopped herself down in the only other chair in the room and propped her feet on Buffy's desk. She then proceeded to pick the black nail polish off of her long fingers. Buffy took in the full appearance of the younger girl.

Her shiny black hair was shoulder length and crimped. She wore all black, from her combat boots, cargo pants, tight t-shirt, and choker to her heavy eyeliner, lipstick, and the chipping nail polish. 'I guess you can never have too much eyeliner…' Buffy thought.

Calmly, she pushed the girls offending boots off her desk as she sat down. Jade looked up long enough for Buffy to notice the surprise reflected in the girl's emerald eyes. _Hah, my authority is working!_

"So, Jade, how are you today?" Buffy asked conversationally.

The brunette slouched in the chair and merely shrugged, her attention drifting away from the guidance counsellor. Buffy nonchalantly began reciting some of the comments in Jade's file.

"Trouble-maker, disobedient, insolent, tardy…this is definitely not a glowing report card."

Jade's expressive eyes finally rested on the woman, belying a hint of defiance.

"Yeah, so? What's it to you?"

Buffy shrugged non-comittally. "It's not. Just wanted to know what you have to say about it."

A slight frown briefly crossed the girl's features before a look of disinterest settled on her features. "If that's what it says, I guess it's true."

"I'm sure you don't really believe that."

The frown returned and her eyes expressed confusion. "What does it matter if I believe it or not?"

Buffy didn't answer, she simply closed the folder and put it in a drawer. "You start with a clean slate here," she promised, echoing the sentiments of a previous Sunnydale High principal, Mr. Flutie, who had given Buffy the benefit of the doubt when she'd first arrived here.

Jade fidgeted in her chair a little, uncomfortable. "Um, thanks, but I don't know how much good it'll do. Trouble kind of…follows me, you know?"

Buffy nodded in understanding. "Trust me, I know what that's like." She gave the brunette a warm smile before standing and offering her hand in friendship.

Jade regarded the gesture warily before accepting it with a cautious smile. Behind the tough façade, Buffy sensed a budding strength and determination, and also a malnourished sensitive side. She knew the perfect person to get this girl settled in.

"I want you to come with me. There's someone I want you to meet."

Buffy led Jade out into the hall and down to one of the science classrooms. After tapping gently on the door, she opened it a crack and poked her head in.

"Sorry to disturb, Ms. Klassen, but I need to borrow Dawn for a while."

"Certainly, Ms. Summers. Dawn?"

Buffy's sister closed her notebook and swung her bag onto her shoulder as she stood. She walked to the front of the room and slipped out the door without a backwards glance.

"So, what's the big? Did Spike wake up?" she asked hopefully. Then she noticed the black-haired girl hovering behind her sister. "Um, k, I'm confused. Who's this?"

Buffy turned and dragged Jade forward. "Dawn, this is our new student, Jade. Jade, this is my sister, Dawn."

The two teens looked each other over for a moment before they simultaneously flipped their hair over their shoulders in an action of indifference.

"That's great. Can I go back to class now?" Dawn asked.

Buffy glared at her sister's rudeness. "I want you to give Jade a tour of the school."

Dawn's blue eyes went wide in surprise and opened her mouth to protest. Jade's mouth set in an angry line and her eyes narrowed.

"No, there is no discussion here. I want you two to make nice and try not to get into trouble. Understood?"

The teens exchanged a look of disgust before relenting to 'Guidance Counsellor Buffy'.

"Good. When you're done sight-seeing I want you both to visit me in my office. K?"

Rolling her eyes, Dawn replied, "Yes, General!" and saluted her sister.

"Whatever," Buffy sighed, and walked away from them.

Dawn and Jade watched her retreat until she disappeared from view, then turned to each other.

"So, where should we start?" Dawn asked. Jade just looked away and shrugged. "Right, um…how 'bout we just walk around and I'll point out anything of interest?"

"Sure, fine, whatever."

"Geez, who pissed in your cornflakes?" Dawn shot back.

An amused expression crossed the other girl's features before she retorted, "Look, I don't need Miss Energetic's little sis to hold my hand. I'm fine on my own."

"Oh, really? Then how do you expect to find the cafeteria? Or were you just planning on starving yourself all year?"

"Figured I'd just follow the crowd."

"What about when you start classes tomorrow and have no clue where you're going? I guess you'll just follow the crowd into the grade nine applied math class instead of grade eleven English."

Jade contemplated this a moment before giving in with a sigh. "Fine, let's just get this over with."

Dawn grinned triumphantly and grabbed Jade's elbow, dragging her down the hall.

"Ok, so what classes are you in anyway? I'll start with those."

Jade pulled a folded paper out of her back pocket and handed it over.

"Oh, hey! You're in my biology class. That's the one I was just in. And, ooh, we've got free period together, and pre-calc, and…everything." Dawn frowned. "Our schedules are the same."

The girls glanced at each other before agreeing. "Buffy."

"I guess she figures you'll keep me in line," Jade commented. Dawn snorted.

"Be_lieve_ me, if she wanted someone to keep you out of trouble, she would _not_ have picked me. Trouble kind of…follows me."

"You know, I told your sister the exact same thing! She said she understood the feeling."

"Oh, yeah, Buffy had quite the rep in high school. You know, she burned down the gym when we lived in L.A. Then she got kicked out and our parents split up…and we ended up here. Weird Central, USA," Dawn explained.

Curiosity piqued, Jade pushed Dawn to continue.

"Well, lots of crazy stuff goes on here, but most people try to ignore it, pretend it doesn't happen. I like to call it the 'blinder effect'."

"No, I mean about your sister. What else has she done?" Jade clarified.

Feeling slightly uneasy about this line of questioning, Dawn let her down gently. "Oh, I dunno, you'd have to ask her, really. Mom didn't like to talk about it with me around."

Jade nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, my parents didn't like to talk about my 'behaviour'. I guess they had their 'blinders' on, huh?"

"Your parents talk about it now?" Jade gave Dawn a confused look. "Well, you said 'didn't', so…"

"Oh, um…see, I don't live with them anymore. I'm staying with my…cousin here."

"Ah, I see. Yeah, my life's kinda like that too. My dad left us and went to live with his secretary. Then Mom died, and Buffy too…um, too_k _care of me after that. She's my guardian. It's just the two of us now."

They walked in silence, Dawn interrupting every now and then to point out a bathroom or a class they share. Eventually they made their way back to the biology class, just as the bell rang signalling the class's end.

Crowds of students began flowing out of rooms, pressing in on all sides of the two brunettes. Dawn once again grabbed her new friend's elbow and pulled her through the throng to Buffy's office.

"Hey, Buff, I'm finished my stint as tour guide. Any more special requests?"

Buffy looked up from her computer screen and gave the girls a thoughtful look. "How did it go?" she asked slightly amusedly.

"Oh, Dawn sure knows everything about this place."

"And we behaved ourselves like you said."

Buffy smiled. "Good! So, I guess you wouldn't mind helping Jade in class, with homework, making friends -"

"Yeah, we kinda figured you finagled Jade's schedule to put her with me. But," Dawn glanced at Jade, "why?"

Leaning back in her chair, Buffy regarded them seriously. "Cause I have a feeling you two have a lot to learn from each other." She pulled Jade's folder out of the drawer and plopped it on the desk.

"Dawn, you're working on the whole petty theft issue. Jade's got a problem with spots of violence. I want you to work together on becoming better citizens."

"Hey, I thought you said I have a clean slate?!" Jade exclaimed.

"You do, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to help you _keep_ it clean. Call it, 'pre-emptive intervention'."

"But Buffy, do you really think this is…_important_ right now? I mean, you know…"

"Of course it's important Dawn! And…this isn't about…that! This is about you and Jade, and my job as guidance counsellor states that I should help you with your problems. So, I'm helping!" Buffy reprimanded.

Jade picked up on an underlying tension between the two sisters. _Wonder what this important thing is they're talking about…_

Before Dawn could argue her innocence with her sister any longer, Buffy's phone rang.

"Sunnydale High, guidance office. Buffy Summers speak-…oh, hey Giles! What's up? You find anything…uh-huh…I didn't think the Net would turn up much. Thank Andrew for me though, okay? What's that?"

Buffy's eyes shot to Dawn's as she listened to the voice on the phone.

"Okay, I'll be right there. No, no, I've got the jeep. Just…keep him calm and lucid for me, k?"

She slammed the phone down and grabbed her purse before brushing past the two girls on her way into the hall.

"Dawn, I need to go home for a while. Make sure you and Jade get to all your classes and…um…"

"Buffy?"

"Yeah?"  


"He's awake, isn't he."

Buffy didn't reply, just tossed a weak smile over her shoulder as she walked out the doors. Dawn stared after her sister, her heart racing a mile a minute in both fear and anticipation. _He's awake, he's awake! Oh, thank God…_

"Um, Dawn?"

Dawn was tugged out of her internal happy dance by Jade's voice.

"Oh, um, we've got English now. You got pens and stuff?"

Jade looked at her queerly before nodding. Then she followed the younger Summers girl to class, all the while wondering what the Hell had just happened between the sisters.


	7. Oubliette

A/N: I'd like to thank everyone who's reviewed the story so far. It's great to know that you like it. I'm glad you guys like Jade, too, that makes me uberhappy! Unfortunately, you won't be seeing her for a few chapters. ;) Anyway, read on!

  
  
  


At the Hyperion, Wesley stood leaning against the front counter. A request for help was the last thing he had ever expected from Rupert Giles. Last time he checked, the man hated his guts.

He sighed heavily, memories of his Slayer flooding his mind and heart. 'I failed her. Rupert has every right to hate me.'

Closing his eyes, he pushed the painful thoughts from his head and tried to focus on his task. _Research, research_.

Angel came down the stairs then, Lorne in tow. The two demons had been trying to get Cordelia to leave her room since she'd locked herself in last night. Judging by the dejected look on the vampire's face, Wesley assumed they'd had no luck getting through to her this morning.

"How's she doin'?" Gunn asked, getting up from his perch beside Fred on the oval couch.

Angel replied with a shake of his head. Lorne gave them all a sympathetic smile. "The poor girl's frightened out of her wits. She said something about seeing a monster and then…well, she didn't really say much more than that."

"A monster? Did she describe it?" Wesley asked.

"She's not in the mood for talking," Angel replied as he sat wearily on the bottom step.

"Did something go wrong with the memory spell? I mean, more wrong than when we became high school kids again?" Fred asked.

"Couldn't tell ya, cupcake. At least, not until Cordy talks to us about it," answered Lorne.

The friends congregated in silence while each remembered the events of the night before…

****

When Cordelia opened her eyes, she stared at Lorne. Her eyes became round and frightened, and her mouth dropped open into a silent scream of terror. She turned on her heel and ran from the room.

They all stood in abject silence, confused by their friend's reaction to her regained memories. Upstairs, they heard a door slam, and they could only guess that she had locked herself in her room.

****

__

It's all been so confusing. First, I found out she'd disappeared. Then, she shows up in the middle of the Hyperion, in this heavenly white dress, and she has no idea who I am. Or any of us, for that matter. Now she's got her memory back, and she won't talk to me. I want to know what happened that night, why she never showed up to meet me. Whatever she saw, whatever took her, must have been horrible…

****

"It's not her fault," Angel said. The room turned to look at him, confusion on all their faces.

"She disappeared that night…something took her. She could be traumatized, and her amnesia could have been her mind's way of dealing with it."

Wesley nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, but, if that's the case, how did she end up here?"

****

When Cordelia opened her eyes, what she saw terrified her. It was a demon, all horned and evil. Flames licked at its body, and she felt the stifling heat of what could only be Hell.

She tried to scream, but she realized she couldn't breathe. So she ran, ran from the demon, ran for her life.

It chased her, feet pounding out a primal rhythm behind her. The white dress she wore was burning now, trailing fire across her body. She could smell the pungent aroma of burning flesh.

She was tired, so tired. Collapsing on the ground, Cordelia rolled on her back to face her attacker.

The horned demon stood before her, satisfaction and anticipation on its face. It stretched one of it's hands out to her, but she scooted away from it.

Angry now, it grabbed her legs roughly and dragged her across the rocky ground beneath them, tearing the skin off her back. Cordelia struggled against her attacker, ignoring the burns and the cuts on her body, trying desperately to free herself from its clutches.

But it just laughed and tore the remaining clothes from her weak body. It grabbed her throat and pressed her into the ground, then climbed on top of her.

"I am the Beast," it boomed as it spread her legs apart. "You are our toy, our vessel."

She tried to yell at him, to say something, anything, so that she could die fighting, if only with her words. But his hand on her neck prevented that.

A disjointed voice called her name, and she listened carefully.

"You will not die today, girl," it said. It was deep, yet distorted, like it was echoing through time.

"No, we have use for you yet."

The Beast began pounding into her, and the tears poured down her cheeks. She felt the voice enter her mind, just as the Beast had entered her body, and suddenly she was home again.

Her heart racing, her breathing deep and uncontrollable, Cordelia found herself lying on the floor of her room, staring at the ceiling. She tried to stand, but found she couldn't. 

Her legs were heavy, her arms were numb, and suddenly, out of nowhere, the voice spoke.

"You will not die today, girl, but our plan will surely kill your spirit."

And then she was rising, her body moving without her commanding it to. Cordelia tried to move her hand, move a finger, but she could control nothing but her own thoughts.

__

Who the Hell are you?

"It doesn't matter who I am," the voice spoke. But it was no longer disjointed. It was her own.

"All that matters is…you're mine."

****

"I have no idea," Angel admitted, and fell back into his silently reverie.

"Well, I have some things I need to tend to," Wesley said as he turned to leave. "Call me if she decides to talk."

Fred nodded at him, and he left. She turned to Lorne. "Maybe I should try talking to her? Maybe she just needs a girl to open up to?"

****

Cordelia watched as the voice commanded her body around the room. It would go to the mirror and stare at it, as if taunting her with her own smug face. Then it would rummage through her pictures, reminding her of the people she loves.

At one point, it pulled a sort of crystal orb from her pocket and laid it on the bed. Cordelia could sense this thing was important to it, and wanted to smash it on the ground.

"Ah, ah, ah!" it taunted. "There will be no violent thoughts in this body."

A current of pain coursed through her being, blurring her vision and momentarily breaking her connection with the outside world. If she could breathe, she'd be screaming.

"Lesson number one," it whispered, "I'm in charge here."

Cordelia silently agreed.

****

"I think we should leave her alone for a while. When she's ready to talk, she'll come to us."

"Angel, are you sure? I mean, she could be trying to hurt herself in there!" Gunn argued.

"No. I understand what she's going through. I've seen…I've _done_…horrible things in my life. It takes a while to get over it. Just…give her time."

****

Time. Yeah, that's what she needed. Time to train, time to fight, time to work, listen, learn…

No, she'd learned already. Did it this summer. Alone. Always alone. She'd learned who she was, who she had grown up into.

Last year had been horrible. The things she said, the things she did…the people she hurt. Oh, God, and she'd hurt them good.

His bloody face, smiling up at her through the pain. _You always hurt the ones you love_. Yep, that's what she did, all right.

They always left her. That's why she hurt them. She knew they were going to leave. Her dad left because he didn't love them any more. Angel left because they couldn't be together. Riley left because she hadn't loved him enough. And Spike…well, he wouldn't leave, would he? Not even when she told him to. So she hurt him.

She hurt him enough to finally bring out the demon. And then he did leave. But not because of what she'd done, but because of what _he'd_ done.

So he got a soul. So she could love him. But didn't he get it? The soul didn't matter!

She was incapable of love.

The jeep turned into her driveway, but Buffy just sat there staring up at her bedroom window. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door, and steeled herself to face the man that loves her.

But this time, she wouldn't hurt him. Only hold.


	8. Imprint

__

A/N: There's a whole weird dream sequence thing at the end of the chapter. So, if stuff doesn't seem to make a lot of sense, it's supposed_ to be that way. J _

Buffy was greeted by anxious faces as she crossed the threshold into her house. Andrew looked concerned, and Kennedy was uncharacteristically thoughtful. Molly sat Indian-style on the floor, sharpening a sword. She glanced up when the door opened, and gave Buffy a half-hearted smile.

"That bad, huh?" Buffy asked, trying to make light of the strained situation.

"Giles is with him," Kennedy supplied, as if to pacify the Slayer's concern.

Buffy nodded in thanks and headed up to her room. She walked down the hallway, fear creeping through her body from the very core of her being. Her mind refused to wrap around the possibility that Spike was permanently injured.

With the pads of her fingers, she pushed her door opened and took in the scene. Rona was standing off to the side, fear and confusion prevalent on her face. Giles sat in the desk chair, watching the vampire with a studious gaze.

Walking to the bed, Buffy felt she was in slow motion. Like she would never get there. Giles turned in his seat as if he was underwater, his hands removing his glasses from his face with what seemed like incredible concentration.

And suddenly the world snapped into place. She could hear Giles' voice telling her about Spike's miraculous awakening and the fright he'd given poor Rona when he'd first showed signs of consciousness.

She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and knew it would be enough to wake the vampire, even in his weakened state. _It's always blood_.

The crinkle of the sheets as he stirred. The tick of her wall clock as the seconds steadily passed. The scraping of her chair as Giles rose to give her room. Who knew how loud such simple sounds could be?

Buffy looked down at him, at his healing wounds and his healthier pallor. Disregarding the chair, she seated herself beside him on the bed and watched as his eyes fluttered open and struggled to focus on her face.

Reflexively she reached for him and put her hand on his far shoulder, so that she was now close enough for him to see her easily. A tiny smile was all he could muster, a mere raising of the cheeks and an almost imperceptible tugging at his eyes. It didn't reach his mouth.

"I'm here," she said soothingly, marvelling at the eyes she never thought she'd see again. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but drawing breath seemed too difficult for him. His whole body seemed to wince at the effort, and she hushed him into stillness.

"It's okay. You don't have to talk."

Spike continued to stare up at her, the need to speak expressed clearly in his gaze. He tried again, struggling for breath that fought to be drawn, and he managed to wheeze out one word. 

"Important."

Buffy stiffened. It was important. She'd listen. She'd make time.

Turning to the others, she spoke. "I appreciate all you've done so far, but it'll be easier for me to talk to him if we can both concentrate."

Giles glanced at the vampire, then back at his Slayer, and relented under her determined expression. With a sigh, he agreed and left the room, Rona following close behind.

Now that the audience was gone, Buffy turned down the quilt to take a look at him. She felt his chest and his sides and realized that some of his ribs were broken, which was probably why he was having trouble breathing. A human would be dead by now.

He desperately wanted to take pleasure in the tenderness Buffy was showing him, but Spike didn't have the energy. It was draining him just to keep his eyes open.

"We'll need to bandage these up," she said to him. "You won't heal properly if we don't." Glancing back down at him, she saw his eyes drifting closed.

"Hey! Stay with me, here. You wanted to tell me something."

Spike once again struggled for breath, but she placed a quieting hand over his mouth. "Don't breathe, just mouth it."

He frowned slightly at her, but saw the logic in her demand. Licking his lips, he concentrated on the words he needed her to know.

As his mouth began slowly moving, Buffy watched it intently, trying to decipher his message. _Wow, I never realized how hard lip-reading must be._

"Okay, so you just said, 'The First raised an ugly-ass vampire with your blood'?" she voiced. He began to nod, but she quickly added, "Blink once for yes, twice for no, k?"

One blink.

"Okay, go on…it tried to turn you over to the 'dark side'?"

One blink. He continued.

"It tried to make you lose faith. Faith in what?"

He paused, looking uncertain.

"It's okay, if you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to."

Pursing his lips, he weakly returned her gesture, and placed his fingers on her mouth. She smiled despite herself, and took his hand in her own.

He licked his lips and answered her. _That you believe in me._

Her heart lurched in her chest as her words from that fateful night echoed in her memory. Unconsciously she gripped his hand tighter.

"That thing is so evil!" she complained. "Did you know that it posed as one of the Slayers in Training to try to get into the Scooby Circle?"

At his blank look, she frowned. "Oh, guess not, you weren't here. Well, anyway, 'The First Evil'? Perfect name for it, you know?"

This time a real smile graced his drawn features and she grinned at him. "Yeah, I know, major flakage. But, it's been a stressful few weeks. What with your vamp-napping and our unexpected guests and then there was my _huge_ battle with the Ubervamp…you would have loved it. I kicked his ass."

Spike couldn't stop the laugh from escaping, and he paid for it in a coughing fit. He wrapped his arms around his chest, trying for all the world to keep it from exploding. Buffy helped him sit up and rubbed his back soothingly.

As his coughing subsided, Buffy laid him back in the bed and wrapped him tightly in the quilt. She smoothed down his unruly curls and smiled kindly at him.

"Try to sleep. I need you to get healthy again. I need my best fighter by my side."

She watched as his eyes danced happily before her. Her stomach flip-flopped unwontedly and she broke eye contact with him. Distractedly, she smoothed his blankets and stood, suddenly feeling nervous to be around him.

"Well, I've got to get back to work, but I'll send Giles up with some blood or something. I'll…see you when I get home."

Buffy turned and headed to the door, once again moving in slow motion, but this time she wanted to get away. As reality shifted into focus, she thought of something, and turned around, her arms folded.

"I'm gonna search your pockets for my underwear when you check out of Hotel Buffy."

His eyes widened in shock, giving her the response she was looking for. A wry smile crept onto her face, and he realized she was teasing him.

With that, she left him to rest in the cozy blankets and made her way downstairs.

****

Getting comfortable, Spike spread himself out in the bed and revelled in its warmth. It was soothingly soft and safe, he never wanted to leave it. As his eyes began to drift closed, he remembered whose bed he was in, and a huge grin spread across his face.

****

He opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was the warm body spooned against his chest. The second was the pair of large blue eyes staring at him over the edge of the bed.

Spike sat slowly, careful not to wake his lover. She moaned softly at the loss of contact before snuggling into the sheets, oblivious to the world. The girl continued staring at him, her straight brown hair eerily familiar.

"Dawn?" he whispered. She turned and headed out the bedroom door, casting a glance over her shoulder to make sure he was following.

He stood from the chair and walked across the room, his bare feet making slapping sounds as skin met wood. Glancing in the mirror, he made sure he looked perfect before heading downstairs.

Looking down at his bloody hands he thrust them under the tap, watching as the clear water turned scarlet as it swirled down the drain. Satisfied that they were clean, he dried them off. He didn't want to leave traces of his crimes in Joyce's immaculate house.

"Come on," came a voice on the other side of the door. "We're going to be late!"

Spike stepped out of the bathroom and the woman swept him down the stairs. "Take them two at a time, that a boy, now straighten your tie and try not to make a fool of yourself."

He self-consciously pulled at his lapels as the woman began fussing with her already perfect red satin dress. She placed her gloved hand in his elbow and let him lead her to the dance floor.

As the kitchen door swung open, Spike smelled fresh cocoa. He gratefully accepted the mug Joyce placed in his hands and sat with her at the kitchen island.

"How was the date?" she asked him.

He chuckled lightly. "The usual, violence and death."

Just then Buffy strode into the room, a stake gripped tightly in her clenched hand. "Get away from her!" she cried.

Spike rose slowly from his chair. "It's all right, love. I'm leaving."

"Not fast enough," she retorted, and drove the pointed wood into his chest.

The woman placed one hand on his shoulder as he rested his own on her waist. Their free hands met in the air and they twirled in time to the waltz.

"You've gotten good at this," she murmured. "Have you been practicing without me?"

"Of course not, ducks. Though I may have spent an evening or two in the company of a mop."

The woman laughed gaily at this, brown eyes twinkling at him with mirth. She stepped closer to Spike, and he moved his hand around to the small of her back.

Smiling seductively up at him, she whispered, "What do you say we liven this party up a bit? The orchestra isn't quite to my…taste."

"Let's," he smirked, a wicked gleam entering his eyes. The woman stepped back from him and her face contorted into the mask of a demon.

"My Spike knows how to make his mommy happy," she cried gleefully as she ripped the throat out of her first unsuspecting victim.

"That he does, Dru. That he does."

He rolled over in the bed, draping an arm across the body beside him. Smiling to himself, he pulled her closer and snuggled against her, nuzzling her hair. His fingers traced the contours of her naked body, from chin to knee.

And suddenly he realized there was something sickeningly wrong. Her body was cold, cold as ice, cold as death. He sat up, panicked, and reached across her to turn on the lamp.

When he looked down, he died again. There, laying beside him, was the love of his life. Dead. Dried blood trailed from two puncture wounds on her neck. Her golden hair was messed and chunks of it lay on the pillow, scalp still attached.

He had killed her.

****

He jolted awake as the bedroom door squeaked open. Giles came towards the bed, a mug of heated blood in his hands. Spike tried to shake the fear and disgust the dream had stirred in him, but he couldn't.

The Watcher handed him the cup and he drank it quickly, not wanting the coppery taste to linger any longer than necessary. Once it was empty, he handed it back to Giles with a raspy thanks.

The man simply nodded at him and told him to get some sleep. When Giles had gone, Spike tried to get comfortable, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw the last image of his nightmare imprinted on his eyelids.

Buffy.


	9. Breathe

__

A/N: Just so you know, I actually happen to like The Catcher in the Rye, so don't send me reviews saying I don't know a good book when I read it or something. And if you don't like the book, I understand that too, cause I didn't like it the first time I read it, either. So, yeah, no hate mail, please!

"K, I don't get this. What do the ducks symbolize?"

Dawn turned from her magazine and regarded Jade for a moment before answering.

"Well, the way I see it, the ducks symbolize childhood, or a search for innocence or something. I'm not really positive."

Jade frowned at her copy of The Catcher in the Rye and sighed. She reread the page and Dawn went back to flipping through _17_. 

"But the ducks fly away, and the fish get frozen in the water, right?"

"Uh, yeah. I think that's how it goes."

"Then what do the fish symbolize?"

Dawn hemmed and hawed for a moment before coming to a conclusion. "Ok, here's what I think. The ducks are carefree children, able to fly away to lands unknown at a moment's notice. But the fish are adults; they're trapped by their morals and ethics and all that boring stuff. So, the ducks and the fish symbolize Holden's struggle with giving up his childhood."

Jade's frown turned into a scowl now. "I don't like this book."

"Who does?" Dawn laughed.

"It's just that it's so…full of symbolism, I guess? It makes it a little tough on my soft brain."

"Oh, my brain's pretty soft too. The trick is to take the scene out of context and apply it to what you already know."

"Good idea."

"I thought so."

The girls returned to their respective occupations while studiously avoiding the death glare Mr. Parch was giving them. He had caught them talking during quiet reading time more than a _dozen_ times, and he was not impressed. Perhaps he'd have a conversation with that Summers counsellor…

"Dawn?" Jade asked.

"Yeah?"

"What do you think happens if a duck gets frozen in the pond, too?"

"Heh? What are you talking about?!"

"Never mind," Jade retracted, "it was stupid anyway."

Dawn gave the other girl a confused look before flipping another page in her magazine. But Jade didn't return to the novel, even though she needed to read it by next class since she was incredibly behind in the class work she hadn't originally been around for. Instead, she found her attention drifting into the halls of her memory. Her eyes fixed on a chip on the surface of her desk as images from her childhood flitted into her consciousness…

****

It was a cool May afternoon as she walked through the village. She pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders against the chilled breeze. The sky was overcast, the sun hiding away from the world.

'Today is a day of importance', Grandmama had said, a wild gleam in her eyes. Normally Jade didn't take her crazy-talk to heart, but today was different. Today, she could feel something foreboding in the air.

She passed the bakery and waved at Monsieur Gerrault who was putting out bread to cool. He waved at her in return, and sent her family well-wishes. Jade nodded in thanks and continued on her way.

Her feet clicked along on the cobblestone road as she walked. The sound was comforting, familiar, and for a moment her unease lifted.

Until she heard the scream. It was inhuman, but clearly distressed. Jade glanced around, trying to find it's source. But as she searched, she realized that none of the other villagers had noticed it. They continued with their daily business, transporting wine, selling Paris newspapers, beating out carpets. 

__

Maybe it was my imagination… It sounded again, higher in pitch this time, and louder. She could tell it was coming from the glen to the east, and headed off towards it.

The trees were tall; old as the earth, her father had once told her. Though she didn't believe they were _quite_ that old, she could tell by the girth of their trunks that they were likely hundreds of years old.

Leaves crunched underfoot as she trudged through the trees. Every so often, the cry would tear through the still wood and Jade would adjust her path to bring her to it. She could tell she was nearing the pond, and she realized that the cry was that of a duck.

Walking faster now, she saw the glistening blue of the water through the brush and smelled its fresh aroma. It mingled with the heady scent of pine to make a smell purely outdoors. But she didn't pause to enjoy it, but rather rushed to a fallen tree where she saw white wings flapping desperately.

She saw that the felled tree had gone top-first into the pond and had trapped the duck beneath it at the edge of water and land. The tree was broken, but its base remained attached to the stump. To free the duck, Jade would have to lift the end in the water.

Tossing off her shawl and stepping out of her shoes, she waded out into the pond, murmuring soothingly to the trapped fowl. By the time she reached the end, she was waist-deep in water that chilled her to the bone.

She began to shiver uncontrollably as the wind blew across the surface. But she steeled herself against the shocking cold and dove under. Her eyes stung as she opened them underwater, and she had to blink a few times before she could see easily.

The tree rested atop a rather large rock, and Jade tested its weight gently with her hands. She pushed upwards on it, enough for it to rise a bit off the rock. It wasn't too heavy, and she felt confident that she could lift it on her own if she found good footing.

Her head breached the surface and she gulped down air and pushed her wet and stringy hair out of her eyes. The noticeably cooler wind froze her eyelashes and she had to work at keeping her lids apart. Beneath her, she tested the slick rocks with her bare feet. She dug her toes into the algae and scraped it off as best she could.

Ducking under the water again, she grasped the tree and settled her feet on the now less-than-slippery rocks. As she straightened her legs, she pushed the log up. She had almost lifted it out of the water when she slipped.

Her legs went out from under her and the tree came down with her body. She hit the pond bottom hard, enough to know she would bruise. And then the tree bounced off the rock and settled on her legs, effectively trapping her underwater.

She tried pushing it off herself, but it wouldn't go sideways. Trying to lift it didn't work either, because she was only strong enough to do that with the added strength of her legs. Beginning to panic, she thrashed in the water and accidentally cut her hand on a jagged rock.

Her blood swirled in the water, drifting away like smoke. As she stared at it, she realized she was going to drown. _Drowning to save a duck_.

Her lungs began screaming for air, and she felt herself losing consciousness. The numbness in her body began to dissipate, and she went limp with exhaustion. As she began a silent prayer of repentance, she saw herself rising up, out of the water…

That's when she noticed the cool wind again, though it didn't sting like it should have, because she was wrapped in strong arms. She was gasping for air, and the stranger was rubbing her back and whispering encouragement.

"Come on, breathe it all in. That's it." She was carried back to the shore and a blanket was wrapped tightly around her. Jade began convulsing with shivers that wracked her entire body, and the stranger wrapped their arms around her and chafed her arms.

She looked up through her wet hair. It was brushed aside, out of her face, and she met her rescuer. Broad-shouldered yet small, the boy was no older than herself. He smiled kindly down at her and held her tighter.

"Trying to drown yourself, were you?" he asked light-heartedly.

Through the chattering of her teeth, she managed to thank him.

He ducked his head a little, his longish blond hair falling across his soft features. "Ah, it was nothing," he muttered.

Jade began to feel a little warmer, a little stronger, and sat up a bit, looking into his face. She stilled her shuddering chin and the annoying rat-a-tat of her teeth stopped.

"No, you saved my life. I am indebted to you."

He looked up at her, and met her eyes. Green to blue; blue to green. In that instant, the world fell away. She lifted her hand and touched his cheek. He pulled her body a little closer to his.

And then the duck quacked. Both of them turned to see it waddling over to them, apparently grateful to them for saving it. Jade stretched out a hand and it nuzzled her. They both laughed as it turned and jumped into the pond.

Standing up, the boy helped Jade to her feet. She removed the blanket from her shoulders and handed it to him.

"No," he said, "you hold onto it. It'll keep you warm until you reach home."

"Thank you," she replied, and he wrapped it around her shoulders once more. She slipped back into her shoes and he folded her shawl before placing it in her hands.

"What's your name?" she asked. He paused.

"Zeke," he answered. "Yours?"

"Jade," she said, and smiled at him.

"Like your eyes," he observed. She ducked her head a little.

"Yeah."

Zeke reached out and grasped her chin, tilting her face up to look at him. He stepped toward her, and her heart leaped into her throat. But he simply placed a soft kiss on her forehead before turning and walking away.

She stood there for a long time, rooted to the ground. Replaying the events in her mind, she realized that not only had she never seen him in the village before, but how had he known she was even in the water?

Frowning, she headed back into the woods, haunted by the carefree quacking that now came from the pond…

****

"Jade?"

Her reverie was interrupted by Dawn's voice. She looked up at her and realized that they were the only two people left in the classroom.

"Oh, I uh…" she stammered, stuffing her belongings into her schoolbag.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Dawn offered.

Jade paused, and looked at her friend. "I think I figured my duck thing out."

"Oh yeah?"

The two girls headed to the front of the room and out the door.

"Yeah. If a duck got stuck in the lake? It would symbolize fate."


	10. Issues in Trust

***A/N: Okay, so this chapter was up for less than 24 hours when I got, not one, but two e-mails telling me my French was crap (though one was nice about it, the other was not very helpful. I did say it was probably gonna suck the big). Anyways, thanks a lot from spikesevilsoul666 for the translation and the offer of future help. I just might take you up on it. Hope y'all enjoy the new and improved French!****

Buffy stood back and watched as the five Slayers in training went through their drills. They moved around the basement, hitting stationary targets, weaving between poles, throwing knives at the dart board, and fighting tête-à-tête, all to improve their paltry combat skills.

Kennedy was the oldest of the group, and the most experienced at fighting. Following her example, the others were advancing quickly. All, that is, except Chloe.

The young brunette struggled to do even the most basic manoeuvres, and Buffy recognized that she would need special attention if she was to become part of her army. _Training them will be much easier when Spike can help_.

Dawn came down the stairs then, a tray of lemonade-filled glasses balanced on her upturned palm. The SiT's took a welcome break from their rigours and accepted multiple glasses of drink. They plopped themselves down in a pseudo-circle and began chattering about their progress.

Buffy decided to leave the girls to talk amongst themselves and followed her sister to the kitchen. She sat at the island and watched distractedly as Dawn began cleaning up the sugar and lemon rinds she had left out.

"How are they doing?" Dawn asked. Buffy looked down at her hands as she clasped them in her lap.

"I think they're improving. I'm a little worried about Chloe, though." Dawn nodded. 

"She seems a little distant. Like she's sleepwalking," the younger girl agreed. "I guess she's still trying to adjust."

The sisters paused in reflective silence. Sounds of laughter lilted up the stairs, and Buffy smiled.

"I think Chloe will be just fine," Buffy confided, "once the girls become friends. I know that helped me."

The front door opened and closed and Anya and Xander could be heard bickering as they divested themselves of their coats.

"I just thought he'd like something fresh…"

"What is it with women and vampires?! I _swear_ he can do that hypno-thing…"

"…I mean, he's recovering from a horrible, traumatic experience…"

"…'cause you never did something like this for me. Oh wait, it must be the whole 'evil undead' thing!…"

"…he was tortured and bled and beaten because…well, mostly because of Buffy, but that's beside the point…"

"…It's been one vampire after another: now it's Spike, before that it was Dracula…"

"…because nevertheless Buffy shouldn't be giving away her own blood to heal vampires all the time…"

"…and of course there was Angel - what did you say about Buffy and her blood?"

The girls listening from the kitchen now bore almost identical expressions, their eyes wide, and their mouths frozen in silent 'oh's. Though Buffy was clearly shocked that Anya had so glibly offered up what she thought had been a secret of understanding, Dawn was more surprised that Buffy would have done something so…_caring_ for Spike.

Within seconds of Xander's realization, the kitchen door slammed open and a very pissed-off construction worker stood fuming before the Slayer. His face was red, and his eyes were practically popping out from the pressure building inside him.

"You!Did!WHAT?!"

Anya came running in behind him, a mixture of fear and curiosity twisting her features into a comic mask. Buffy jumped out of her chair, prepared to defend herself verbally, and, as Xander's hands balled into tight fists of anger, possibly physically as well.

***A/N: This part is just easier to do in script form. I'd apologize, but I'm not sorry, so…yeah.***

BUFFY: I can explain -

XANDER: Explain what, Buffy? That you can't make sound decisions anymore?!

ANYA: Xander -

XANDER: No, An, don't. You're just like her. You _welcomed_ him back after all that he's done; all that he _can_ do.

BUFFY: [defensively, but as if talking to a child] It's what I had to do.

XANDER: No, it's not! You could have given him regular blood! Pig's blood! Some other kind of blood that was NOT YOURS! But no. You have to go and make these HUGELY important decisions all by yourself because you're the slayer and 'that's what slayers do'!

BUFFY: [firmly] He needed good blood.

XANDER: So he sticks his fangs in your neck and that's okay…how?

ANYA: Wrist.

Off of everyone's confused stares.

ANYA: Her wrist, not her neck. And he didn't bite her, she cut herself.

Now Xander looks even more upset, if that's possible. Buffy rolls her eyes.

BUFFY: Gee, thanks Anya. That really helped.

XANDER: I can't - I don't…[lowers himself wearily onto a stool]. Why?

BUFFY: [confused] Why?

XANDER: Why did you let him come back? He was gone, and he came crawling back, and you accepted him. Then we find out he's got a soul, and Dawn takes him back too.

Dawn and Buffy exchange looks.

XANDER: [continuing, oblivious] And of course, when you hear he may have sired some poor guy, you don't believe he's capable of it. So, we wait awhile, see what happens. Turns out he's being used as an un-contracted, undead recruiter - which, by the way, is completely against labour laws in most states - and you bring him here. To live. With the girls. Where he can kill again. And still, he gets in trouble, you run off and save him. And yes, I know we have this argument over and over…but this time it's different. This time you're really getting hurt. And you're putting the girls - all of us, actually - in danger.

Pausing a moment, he looks straight at Buffy, gauging her reaction. She looks a little guilty, as if she'd been thinking the same thing herself.

XANDER: If you think his soul makes him harmless - fine. I'll go with that. But you can't tell me that the First is done using Spike as his helpless minion. Because you don't know that. Which makes him still dangerous, and you just fed him strong Slayer's blood. Are you seeing my issue now? It's not because he's a vampire. Strangely enough, I forget that a lot of the time. And even I admit that he changed…even before the soul. That's not what this is about. This isn't because he was a murderer. Or even because he tried to rape you. It's because he could kill you in the blink of an eye and not even know it. That's worse than a damn door off it's hinges. I'll feel safer once he's gone. Or the First is. Whatever.

BUFFY: You don't really think that I can throw him out, or chain him up indefinitely, until we defeat the First or, God, even worse, that I could just stake him?! I can't. I can't do that.

The four stand silently in the kitchen, unable to look at each other.

BUFFY: [quietly] So what do you suggest, then?

XANDER: [sighs, runs hand through hair] I honestly don't know. 

Another pause of uncertainty.

BUFFY: [starts slow, becomes more excited] Maybe the trick to this is deactivating the trigger, making him harmless again. Xander, you said we'll be safe if either Spike or the First goes? Well, what if we can get the First to leave Spike alone - then it'll be okay, right?

DAWN: But how do we go about getting rid of something we don't even understand?

BUFFY: Same way we always do. Research.

****

Jade's body writhed in rhythm to the music. The beat pounded through her veins like a hypnotic drug, tugging her to and fro. Her black hair reflected the greens and reds and blues of the psychedelic light show the Bronze had brought out for the evening's band.

She felt a body situate itself close to her, and she raised her half-lidded eyes. A boy stood there, a little older than herself, his white-blond hair glowing under the black lighting. Jade turned towards him, and they moved together, lost in the dance.

The floor was crowded with undulating teenaged bodies that heated the air around them to stifling levels. Jade wiped the sweat from her brow, suddenly wishing she had worn the black tank top instead of the sparkly top she had decided on.

As if reading her mind, the boy leaned towards her, lips brushing against her ear, and said, "Outside?"

She looked up at him and nodded. Letting him lead her by the hand towards the back door, they wove through the crowd, twisting and turning around couples. Suddenly feeling thirsty, she grabbed someone's drink from their hand and knocked it back. _Mmm…alcoholic in nature. Very good._

When the cool night air touched her skin, she sighed in appreciation. She'd been dancing for the better part of an hour, and the drinks she'd gotten with her fake id weren't helping her situation.

The boy pulled her into his arms and kissed her gently, testing her waters. She smiled up at him and answered his unvoiced question by draping her wrists around his neck and pressing herself against him.

He pushed her towards an alley wall and pinned her there with his hips before he descended his mouth upon hers again. This kiss was more urgent, hungry, and she parted her lips to welcome his tongue.

His hands ran up her stockings and his fingers ventured under her skirt. Jade felt his muscled arms before reaching up to let down her hair. Meanwhile, their tongues duelled for dominance.

Giving up the struggle, he left her mouth and began exploring her jaw, nibbling on her earlobe, and eventually discovering her neck. He pressed himself suggestively against her and she mewled in need.

When she felt the two sharp incisors graze her skin, her eyes widened and she gasped.

****

She could barely see the smoke from the village through the trees, but the glow of the fire was bright; she broke into a run. _This can't be what she meant!_ The birds squawked and the animals shrieked in fear as she tore through the brush.

By the time she reached the main street, most of the buildings were up in flames. Men ran past her, frantically calling for aide.

"Incendie! Incendie! Apportez l'eau!" Fire! Fire! Bring water!

Jade stared around her as her neighbours ran for their lives, tugging their children behind them. Wood, consumed by the angry flames, fell to the cobblestones as the wind began assisting the destruction. The Lemorceau's youngest boy, the one who cried out the headlines every morning on the corner, stood in the middle of the square, screaming insanely.

"Vous ne pouvez pas entrer! Je révoqué l'invitation! Partez, hommes du Diable!" You cannot enter! I take back the invitation! Leave, men of the Devil!

At the mention of the Unholy One, she began to panic herself, and ran desperately for her own home. Eventually, she passed the fire line, and was somewhat relieved to know her home was not ablaze. But she knew her family was not safe.

Jade raced up the yard, feet pounding on the ground, heart beating in her ears. She threw open the front door - and stopped dead in her tracks.

The house was covered in it. Splattered on the walls. Floor. Ceiling. Her feet squished in it as she walked forward. She was terrified, her breathing shallow and desperate. Turning the corner into the living room, she leaned against the wall for support.

And she screamed.

Jade lost control. Her legs gave out and she sank into the unending pool of blood. Her sobbing wracked her body, and her heart screamed in pain and anger.

She didn't notice it come up behind her. How could she, with her family laying slain at her feet? She didn't even feel herself being grabbed roughly, or smell the fetid breath on her face as it leaned in for the kill.

Suddenly she was dropped to the floor, and the little particles of dust clung to everything sticky with blood. Someone lifted her, and carried her outside. She was set down in the grass, and her body succumbed to shock. Jade laid there for minutes, or maybe hours, just staring up at the stars.

Nothing registered in her; not the blood on her skin and clothes, not the bag that was set down beside her, not the heat of her burning house, not the arms that wrapped around her and the soothing voice that tried to comfort her.

There was nothing left. Nothing. She had nothing.

"Zeke?" she asked.

He looked down at her, his face smeared in blood, his own or otherwise, even he didn't know. Soot clung to it and had gathered in his hair. He was literally unrecognizable. But she hadn't looked at him to know. She just did.

"Yeah?" he answered.

"Wake me up when it's over." And she fainted.

****

__

I could never trust you enough to love you.

The dust settled around her and she tucked the chopstick-com-hair accessory into her shirt. But Jade remained where she was, unmoving, unseeing, as she replayed the last images.

A woman in a robe; a man in black. Angry. Scared. In a bathroom.

__

What the Hell was that?

Slowly, she walked down the alley, no more enjoying this cool evening than she had the hot one so many years ago.


	11. Trigger

It stood in the middle of the cavern, arms folded across its chest. Its mouth pursed in frustration, eyes narrowed, body taut.

The steady drip-drip of the nearby sewer was the only sound to echo in the vastness.

"You're playing a good game, Slayer," it spoke. It flipped its blond hair over its shoulder.

"But playing the game isn't always enough to win. Sometimes you have to bend the rules."

****

"I've got nothing," Xander stated as he dumped the last book into the massive pile accumulating in the middle of the Summers' living room floor.

Anya flipped closed the laptop. "Me neither."

"Ditto," Dawn sighed as she closed Buffy's college psychology textbook.

"There's still no answer at Riley's contact number," Buffy grunted as she slammed the phone back into the cradle.

"So, what now?" Anya asked.

The four of them looked around them, seeking some outside inspiration. But none came.

"Well," Buffy sighed, "I guess this plan wasn't the answer we were looking for."

"On the contrary," came a voice from behind them. The room turned to stare at the front door, where Giles now stood.

"You were on the right track. But your sources are useless."

He stepped into the room carrying a massive tome. Placing it on the coffee table, he gestured for the others to make themselves comfortable.

"I'm glad you called me, Buffy. To tell you the truth, deactivating the trigger never even crossed my mind. But I did some research, and I came across this."

Giles flipped open the book and thumbed through it momentarily before holding it up for the rest of them to see. He tapped a picture with his index finger and began speaking again.

"This here is a, uh, mystical device used to bring unconscious…memories…to the front of a person's mind. I believe that this could be the key to helping Spike overcome…whatever it is that the First is preying upon in his subconscious."

"How does it work?" Buffy asked.

Giles replaced the book on the table and began cleaning his glasses.

"Well, the stone pictured here will, uh, 'morph' into a liquid form and enter the patient's, erm, mind, and the rest isn't very clear, but the outcome should, theoretically, be what we desire."

Buffy frowned. "So, you're saying that this blob thingy will crawl into Spike's brain and fix the problem?"

Giles replaced his glasses. "It's not that simple. A major part of the treatment lies in Spike's ability to overcome whatever negative emotions this memory, or memories, as the case may be, invoke in him. All the…'blob' does is show him what it is he needs to deal with."

Silence descended upon the group.

"It's basically a therapist of the non-humanoid variety, then?" Xander clarified.

"Um, yes. I suppose one could call it that."

"Cool!" Dawn exclaimed. "When do we start?"

Giles once again began cleaning his glasses. Buffy looked on with a concerned expression.

"Uh-oh, major lens-cleanage. Either we're about to hear bad news, or Giles is under the impression that the demons he sees are taped onto his glasses."

He glared at his Slayer before reluctantly placing his glasses back on his face.

"The bad news, as Buffy so astutely surmised I was about to inform you of, is that the only known one in existence is currently in the possession of one Ethan Rayne, who is, as we speak, incarcerated in God-knows-where by a shady government branch we know as the Initiative."

"Oh," Buffy muttered.

"However," Giles continued, "I've called some old friends of mine, and I believe that there is indeed more than one in existence. I have a lead that a brotherhood in Romania may know the whereabouts of this…second stone."

"So, what are we waiting for? Off to Romania!" Xander cried, leaping off the couch and thrusting an arm in the air, finger pointed like a character from one of those campy old superhero shows. Dawn looked up at him amused, but the other three simply rolled their eyes.

"Right Xander," Anya admonished, "let's just hop in our Slayermobile that conveniently transforms into an airplane and fly there. Newsflash: we can't! And neither do we have the money to afford a plane ticket or some other form of trans-oceanic transportation."

"Maybe I can be of use, then?" came a voice, once again, from behind them. The room turned around to find Spike standing at the bottom of the stairs.

Buffy jumped out of her seat, eyes wide, and ran to his side.

"What the Hell are you doing down here? When I came home I specifically said I wanted you to stay in bed!"

She wrapped an arm around his waist and guided him to her seat. Wearily, he accepted the assistance, and she gently set him down.

"You think I can just lay up there with nothing better to do than count the ceiling tiles? The least you could have done is leave me some reading materials. I mean, is that so much to ask?"

Buffy rolled her eyes before wedging herself between Dawn and Spike on the couch. Spike fiddled with the drawstring on the grey sweats and smoothed out the folds in the oversized 'Seinfeld' t-shirt he was wearing, both of which had been lent to him by Xander.

"Good to see you…up and about, Spike," Giles said.

"Well, of course he's getting better, he's been drinking _real good blood_," Xander muttered. The three women shot him looks of death while the other two men simply looked at him quizzically.

"Right then," Spike said, changing the subject, "you think there might be a cure for me in Romania, Rupert?"

"Hey, have you been eavesdropping?" Buffy demanded.

"Sorry, pet, but it's a little hard to ignore all the conversations going on in this house when the only amusement you have is testing the endurance of Mr. Gordo's springy tail."

Buffy's eyes widened in horror, but Spike smirked, and she realized he was teasing her. Turning his attention back to the matter at hand, Spike continued with his idea.

"I've got a demon friend who owes me a couple favours. Among other things, I rid him of a vampire problem a while back for which he was quite grateful. This chap just happens to work for a travel agency, and I'm sure I could persuade him to give one of us a free round trip to Romania as payment."

Buffy looked sceptical. "You really think he'd be able to do that?"

Spike smiled slightly. "Not a doubt in my mind, love. You know how persuasive I can be."

All eyes turned to her and she blushed slightly under their scrutinizing gaze.

"Oh, yeah, um, persuasive. So, we'll get in touch with him tomorrow, see what we can work out," she said.

"All right, so it's a plan," Giles said.

"What's a plan?" came a third voice from behind them. They all rolled their eyes before turning.

"Geez, doesn't anybody knock around here?" Xander quipped.

"Um, no door," Willow explained, waving her hands around to emphasize. A surprised look came over her face as she glanced around the room.

"Oh, hey Spike! You're awake! No one told me you were awake. I guess that's 'cause I wasn't, huh? And, oh, research? I missed research? Did the earth stop rotating too?"

A sad little pout tugged at her mouth and everyone jumped in at the same time to explain why they hadn't included her. The only one who remained silent was Spike, who secretly shared her feeling of exclusion; they hadn't even consulted him about this, and it was his problem.

Willow gave a little shrug and a forgiving smile. "That's okay, I was really tired. But now I'm ready and rearing to go!"

"That's nice, but it won't do you any good."

"For the love of all that is chocolate with a cream-filled centre, people need to stop interrupting our conversations!" Xander cried, and they turned once more to see who had entered the living room.

They saw Buffy. Or what looked like Buffy. It stood there, in all its glory, black leather pants and tight white shirt, hair tied up like it was ready for a fight.

Spike slowly stood and began backing away from 'Buffy', until he was pressed against the far wall. Concerned, and a little wigged out, Buffy stood too, and put herself between the disturbed vampire and her doppelganger.

"Who are you?" she demanded, hands at her sides, ready to deal serious damage if the thing even moved.

"You can't hurt me, Slayer," it said, stepping towards her. It walked right through the coffee table, books and all, and advanced upon the blonds.

Buffy stared at it in realization, and she heard Spike make a little whimper behind her as he huddled in the corner.

"The First," she stated. It smiled at her.

"One for one! But something tells me you're not the brains of this operation."

It turned around, eyes passing menacingly over each of the bodies in the room. Raising an arm, it pointed at Giles.

"You, you're the one with all the answers."

It shifted its attention to everyone in turn.

"The redhead…Willow. You make the plans, you wield the magic. Anyanka, how nice to see you human again. I want to thank you for the evil you brought upon the world for all those centuries. It's unfortunate that you give your insights to the white hats now. You, you're special. Not human, no, not quite. There's some mystical energy left in you, Dawn. Not enough to save you, though. And ah, the carpenter. Xander, the useless one. All he can do is watch. Make jokes."

It turned back to Buffy.

"Warrior, I see you've found the prophecy. So you know that you'll lose, no matter what you do. No matter if you've found your Hero." It turned to Spike then, and stepped towards him.

"Foolish William, your soul's no good to anyone, not even yourself. It doesn't make you a man - nothing can ever make you a man. Not hope, not righteousness, not love. Remember that."

With one last hateful look at the group, it walked towards the front door, a tune on its lips. Buffy frowned, she'd heard it before. But where…?

Suddenly, a growl sounded behind her, and she turned around just in time to see Spike lunge, murder in his eyes.

She screamed, and as she fell to the ground beneath him, his fangs at her neck, she remembered: the night the First visited Spike in her room, she heard him humming it.

This was how the trigger worked, but her realization may have come a bit too late.


	12. Monster

"Buffy!" Xander yelled as he watched Spike topple her to the ground. He jumped out of his seat, the rest of the gang following quickly after.

Giles moved to the weapons chest and pulled out a stake. Xander grabbed an axe from under the couch.

Spike's fangs plunged into her neck, and Buffy bucked against him in pain. She felt her blood trickling down into her hair, but she was more concerned for her attacker's safety.

"NO, Giles!" she cried as she saw him advancing on them. Her Watcher paused uncertainly, watching them with wary eyes.

Xander paused as well, just behind the older man, and behind him, Willow lowered her hands, her half-chanted defence charm dying on her lips.

Buffy's eyes hardened as she concentrated all her strength on pushing Spike off of her. She firmly grasped his arms and pushed upwards. He grunted in exertion as he tried to keep his mouth latched onto her.

His hands clawed at the floor as she used her legs and forearms to propel him off of her and over her head. Her skin tore as his fangs were ripped from her throat, but she ignored the pain and faced her opponent.

Spike landed flat on his back, slightly stunned at the sudden change of position. His game face contorted into a grimace of frustration. Behind him, Buffy rolled onto her knees and clutched at her wound. Her eyes flashed angrily.

"You wanna fight, vampire?" she taunted. Slowly, she rose unsteadily to her feet, and she watched him carefully as he did the same.

"Would you like some assistance?" Giles asked through gritted teeth. His hands clutched the stake so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

Buffy shook her head shortly. "It's me he's been turned against. He has no interest in you. I want to keep it that way."

The Slayer and the Vampire began circling each other, her studying his feral movements, him being driven mad by the scent of her blood. Suddenly, Buffy turned on her heel and ran, Spike close on her heels.

The pair ploughed through the Scoobies. Buffy flung the front door open and leapt down the stairs. Spike followed her outside, but he jumped onto the porch railing and used his higher position to fling himself onto her back.

Giles, Xander and Willow ran onto the porch, weapons at the ready. Dawn and Anya parted the curtains so they could watch the action.

Buffy sensed Spike before she felt him, and managed to drop her shoulder just enough so that when they hit the ground together, his momentum set them into a roll.

He gripped her shoulders, nails digging into her and leaving crescent-shaped marks on her skin. She threw her legs out and managed to stop them with one foot and one knee planted firmly on the ground.

Spike wasn't so lucky. When her body stopped, his didn't, and he slammed into her back. His grip on her loosened, and she managed to shrug him off. He crawled to his knees, but she was already standing, and her boot connected with the side of his face.

He fell to the ground again, and she kicked him twice quickly in the stomach before backing away. Slowly he staggered to his feet, his yellow eyes watching her warily.

Buffy's hair was a mess, strands flying helter-skelter out of her ponytail. Bits of grass clung to her sweaty skin, and blood continued to pour out of her open wound to stain her shirt. Her cheeks were pink from both anger and the heat of the fight, and if Spike had been in his right mind at that moment, he would have thought her to be the image of a goddess.

He swung at her, his closed fist connecting solidly with her jaw. Her head flew to the side, and she was knocked slightly off-balance. Spike used this to his advantage and stepped in close to her to deliver another punch and kicked her squarely in the midsection, sending her flying.

She slammed against the tree he had stood under for so many nights. Her head cracked against it and she felt the jagged bark cut into her back. Buffy struggled to remain conscious. She could hear him stalking towards her, but her feet didn't want to support her weight.

Just as she was about to fall, cold hands grabbed her shoulders and forced her back against the tree. Spike's primal growl echoed in her ears and made her blood run cold. He ran his tongue across her puncture wounds, making her shiver uncontrollably in both disgust and in ecstasy.

Buffy felt like throwing up, felt like scrubbing her skin till it was raw, felt like giving herself to him, felt like letting go with wild abandon. She knew he was going to kill her because the First was in control of him. She knew she didn't want to die - not until she'd kicked it's non-corporeal ass to wherever it was it came from; probably Hell, she thought idly.

Over Spike's shoulder, she saw her friends running down the steps. Dawn's face in the window, wide-eyed and frightened. The moon hanging low over the house. The SiT's running down the stairs, wanting to see what the commotion was about.

Everything was moving so slowly, Spike's tongue, Giles' legs, Willow's mouth, her own mind. She knew they'd never make it to them in time. Spike would tear her throat out faster than they could blink. Her life was in her own hands.

She went limp, and dropped heavily to the ground, pulling him down with her. Her body landed first, and she used her knees to guide his body to the side. She rolled with his fall, and when he landed, she straddled his chest.

Buffy wasted no time in pummelling him. She would hit him, and his head would bounce off the ground, coming back for more. Her fists connected with his flesh over and over until he lost consciousness.

She sat upon him, staring down at his battered and bloody face. It slowly morphed back into it's human visage. Giles placed a hand on her shoulder, but she ignored it. Buffy was too wrapped up in Spike's face.

__

You always hurt the ones you love…

Slowly, she rose from him, eyes never leaving the bruises and cuts on his face. Distantly, she knew the others were talking to her, shaking her. But the world was a dream. A false reality. The only thing real to her at that moment was her guilt and fear.

She stepped away from his limp form and forced herself to look Giles in the eye.

"Clean him up," she said quietly, "then shackle him downstairs." Buffy took the stake from his hand and headed out into the street.

She felt their eyes on her back, and heard them calling her name.

"Buffy? Buffy! Where are you going?" Willow, Xander, it didn't matter.

Because she didn't answer. She just kept walking, stake in hand, blood on her knuckles and her neck and her shirt…probably other places, too, but she was too far gone to care.

The only thing that mattered was to make someone pay.

So she could forgive herself.

****

The vamp never knew what hit her. Mr. Pointy was poking out of her chest before she even realized someone had snuck up from behind.

Buffy was taking out her anger on a nest. As her first unlucky victim exploded into dust, eleven pairs of eyes stared through the ashes at the pissed off Slayer.

"I'm having a _really_ bad night, guys," she began as she advanced down the stairs into the warehouse basement, "but it's beginning to look up."

Buffy flew at them in a flurry of kicks and punches. Bodies zinged left and right under her powerful attacks, and the vampire dust didn't even have a chance to touch the ground before she stepped through it to reach the next one on her hit list.

By the time the last vampire had met its end at her hands, Buffy was dirty, tired, and no more bloody than she had been when she'd arrived. Her stake felt light in her hands after the rush of the fight, and though her body screamed for rest, she ignored it.

Stepping into the night, she used her Slayer senses to feel out another unlucky vamp for her to punish. All she could think of was destroying enough evil to make up for what she had done to Spike tonight, that night, all those nights.

There. Around the corner. Buffy crept down the alley towards it. Her nostrils flared in anticipation, and she raised her stake. As she approached the sidewalk, she could see it's dirty brown sleeve in the lamplight.

Silently, she stalked it from behind, closer, closer…

It turned slightly, hearing her strong heartbeat. It sniffed, and she knew she'd been caught. The vampire turned and ran for his life, and she chased after it.

People stared at the tiny woman chasing the tall man down the sidewalk, but no one intervened. They never did.

The vampire turned a corner, and Buffy realized it was heading to the Bronze. _Safety in numbers_.

It ran full tilt down the alley, but Buffy's speed was no match for it. She grabbed it's arm and swung it into a wall. One hand gripped it around the neck, the other raised her stake.

She looked up once, and that was her mistake. It was a male; pale, like all the others, but he was relatively young, not much older than herself when he had been turned. But it was his eyes that stopped her. Blue like the sky, like the sea…like Spike's.

Seeing her pause, he grabbed her weapon and spun them so that she was now pinned against the wall. He growled at her, demon to the fore, and leaned in for the kill.

"No," she whispered, and kneed him in the groin. He doubled over in pain, and she plunged her stake into his upturned back. The wind pulled the dust down the alley, twirling it, tossing it, like a desert storm.

Buffy sank heavily to her knees. Mr. Pointy clattered to the ground. She touched her neck, where Spike's mark would forever be, and looked up at the stars that sparkled happily in the sky.

Tears poured down her cheeks, and she wiped futilely at them. They dripped onto her stained shirt, onto her pants, onto the cold hard concrete beneath her. She hiccupped a little sob, and tucked her stake into the back of her pants.

Buffy stood warily, digging her fingers into the grooves of the brick face because she wasn't sure her legs would be able to support her.

She leaned against the solid wall, grateful for its support, and explored the textures of the brick and mortar with the tips of her fingers. Her hands were weapons, she knew, and her body was built for destruction.

She was a warrior, THE Warrior, and that was her duty. She understood that.

But after killing twelve vampires to ease her own guilt, she also knew she had been using her duty as an excuse for violence. An excuse to behave like the monsters she was chosen to kill.

Wearily, Buffy wrapped her arms around her body and decided that she would not give in to the darkness of her power. She would have to learn how to harness it, use it to her advantage.

And what better way to do that than by taking the girls on a hunting excursion? Tomorrow night, she vowed, she would take them out and teach them what being a Slayer really is.

Tomorrow.


	13. Forgiving Pain

The interesting thing about pain is it comes in so many forms.

There's physical pain, the basest kind of all. Broken bones, torn muscles, abrasions, open wounds; the list goes on. They tingle, they burn, they itch. You cover them with bandages and make-up, because you don't want them to be seen.

Emotional pain is very different. You can't see it, but you can feel it. And you hide it, just like a bruise, because it's something to be ashamed of. Sometimes you joke about it, pretend it doesn't hurt. Or you deflect attention from it by changing the subject.

But when physical and emotional pain are combined, it is the most painful experience. The fire on your body and the freezing of your heart scorch you, until all that's left of you is a hollowed shell.

Spike sat in the basement on the lumpy cot, his arms chained securely to the wall. He twirled a cigarette in his fingers, contemplating it like it held the meaning of life.

Or merely the meaning of his. What was the point anymore? He was useless now, harmless against human threats because of his chip, maybe even harmless against demons because of his soul. And the First was his puppet master, and the only hope of cutting his strings lay in Romania. Or Ethan Raynes' sock drawer.

Deciding against it, he tucked the cig under the mattress where he hid all the things he wasn't supposed to have in Buffy's house. Like his Jack Daniels, or the Slayer's pink lacy underwear.

That last one he should burn, for all the good it does him. From the pounding he received tonight, it was clear that any chance he had with the woman he loves died when he did 180 years ago.

'Well, too bad for her,' he thought as he kicked off his boots. He tried to make himself comfortable, but the rattling of his shackles combined with the springs digging into his hip were making it a little difficult for him.

He wished he hadn't woken up today, that he'd just gone on sleeping under Buffy's blue comforter in Buffy's room, Buffy's bed…he drove her from his mind and rolled to face the wall. He'd get a good night's sleep and prove to the First that he was not completely under its thumb.

The basement door creaked open, and Spike's eyes popped open. He strained his ears, trying to focus his senses on the only sounds in the room other than the ticking of the water heater.

Light creaking of stairs as someone descended. Someone light…a woman. Nice strong heartbeat, if a little fast. Soft padding of bare feet as they approached him across the cement floor. The scent of vanilla and honey…

He rolled over then, and stared up at her. She stared back, wide-eyed, taking in his tattered appearance. Giles and Dawn had cleaned him up the best they could, but when Spike gained consciousness he had pushed them away. He wanted to feel the pain he deserved.

Neither of them moved, her standing open-mouthed and hesitant, him laying stiff and confused. The silence stretched between them like an elastic band, pulled like taffy until brown turns into white and the edges start to tear.

Buffy drew a breath, snapping the silence in two, and clasped her hands in front of her.

"I-I'm sorry."

Spike raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Sorry? For what, love?"

Buffy frowned slightly, then looked him in the eyes. "I'm sorry for hitting you."

He snorted. "As I recall, I hit you first. Fair is fair."

She shook her head vigorously in protest. "No, no…I don't mean to _begin_ with, I mean, at the end…when I, you know." She gestured to her face.

Spike looked away from her and chuckled nervously. "Oh, that. Well, I was going to kill you, pet. So long as you're alive, I figure there's no harm done."

She knelt in front of him and reached out. Gently, she touched the purple bruise on his left eye. Her fingers trailed feather-light across his swollen jaw, and she brushed her knuckles against his split lower lip.

He stared at her in awe, both because she had felt the need to apologize to him and because she was touching him like she cared.

"I was wrong to do this," she whispered. Their eyes met and held. "I should have pinned you down, waited for the others to help. But I didn't. I let my Slayer powers get the better of me, and I…," she pushed him up into a sitting position, and she assumed the place his upper half had been laying on, "I hurt you. Not just today, either. That night outside the police station? And in the building, before we…you know. I've been doing it a lot. And I'm sorry."

Spike stared at her, at the beautiful woman beside him. He couldn't think of anything to say. So he tentatively touched her hand.

She looked down at the place where their skin was touching, but she didn't move. Either way. Cautiously, he slid his palm over the back of her hand, and slowly entwined their fingers.

Buffy looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "Spike…" she choked.

"Shhh…" he whispered, and with his other hand he pushed the loose hair back from her face. His fingers slipped around to the back of her head, and he pulled her down to rest on his shoulder.

Silent tears dripped down her face, and she put her arm around his waist. She snuggled into his chest, and he pulled out her hair tie. He used his fingers as a comb and smoothed the tangles out of her hair.

"I'm so sorry, Spike!" she whimpered. "I'm so, so sorry…"

He continued to shush her, inhaling her scent, feeling the warmth of her skin and enjoying the steady thump-a-thump of her heart. Sighing lightly, he smiled into her hair.

"I know you are, love. I know."

She sniffled once, then asked, in so tiny a voice he barely heard her, "Forgive me?"

His fingers paused in mid-stroke, and if he'd had breath, it would have caught in his chest. Slowly, he pulled away from her, and she tilted her face up to look at him, her eyes doe-like and her lips trembling from withholding sobs.

"Buffy," he began, using her given name, not her title or a pet name, because what he was about to say was important. "Buffy, the moment you walked down those stairs, before you even opened your mouth, I forgave you. If you can forgive me for the impulses I have, for the things I do that I can't control, then I can forgive you for those moments when you lose yourself to your instincts, however that may result."

"No," she whimpered, "no, you don't understand! I can't do that! It's wrong to hit you just because I can, it's wrong to have to keep you locked up down here, and it's wrong that I can't trust myself around you! That I can't trust myself not to hurt you, not to punch you or kick you or call you names. Until I can control myself, and you're in total control of _your_self…I'm not even sure we should be in the same room together."

Silence once again descended on the pair. Spike stared at her in shocked silence. Buffy stared at him with fear and guilt fighting for dominance of her gaze. Suddenly, he gripped her shoulders roughly, and she gasped.

"Don't do this, Buffy. Don't let it win! This is what it wants, it wants to separate us, make us weaker. We're stronger together, and you know it, Slayer! We're formidable opponents on our own, but as a team, we're practically unstoppable. Like goddamn Batman and Robin, we are! Listen to me. Listen! If I get out of hand, if I threaten you or yours, I give you _permission_ to kick my sorry ass, okay? I _want_ you to stop me, whatever way you have to. I can't kill again, I just can't. This will heal, Buffy. These wounds, they're temporary. But if I kill again…that's one thing I'll never be able to forgive of myself. My soul is no good against the First. I need you to be my soul. Can you do that for me? Please?"

Buffy felt the world fall away in that moment. He asked her to be his soul, and suddenly, she knew he was right. They were a team, Slayer and vampire. Her green eyes held his blue ones, and she felt safe, strong, and she realized that she trusted him beyond a doubt. She wanted to return that feeling.

"Yes. I-I'll be your soul, Spike. If you'll help me control my demon, I'll help you control yours."

He frowned in confusion. "Your demon? What are you talking about?"

"I need to control the demon inside me, the part of me that makes me the Slayer. And I'm going to teach the girls what it means to be a Slayer - using their senses to hunt vampires, knowing the root of their power, embracing it, but not letting it consume them. And I want you to help."

She smiled shyly at him, but her eyes glowed in anticipation. He knew how important her Slayer heritage was to her, so he nodded.

"I'll do anything you want me to, love. Anything at all."

Her smile turned into a grin, and she just stopped herself from throwing her arms around him in wild hug. But she couldn't contain all of her happiness - she found herself uncharacteristically bouncing on the bed.

"Ooh, I knew you'd do it! Okay, so tomorrow night we're going to take the girls patrolling, show them how to hunt, but also the finer points of extracting information from demon world. I want them to start slaying _real_ vampires soon, not just jamming stakes into dummies. Oh, and I want to use you as a practice run, so they can get to use their vampire sense before the hunt -"

"Woah, woah, woah! Tomorrow night? That's a little gung-ho, don't you think?"

"What, think you can't handle it, 'Big Bad'?" she teased.

He put on a look of mock indignation. "I'll have you know that I'm a fast healer. Especially when there's Slayer blood in my system."

"Hmph," she said, pulling entirely away from him and crossing her arms. "Is that all I am, just a cheap meal?"

"Au contraire, love. You are the finest meal I've ever had."

Buffy rolled her eyes playfully and smacked him lightly in the chest. She stood then, and turned to him.

"You should go to bed now. I don't want you bleeding all over the girls tomorrow."

She headed up the stairs, but he called out to her. Pausing, she turned and looked at him quizzically.

"So, uh, these little Slayers…"

"Potentials."

"Oh, yeah, Potentials. Um, what's the deal with them, anyway? I kinda missed the initial introductions."

Buffy winced a little at her ignorance. "Crap! I totally forgot to give you the lowdown. Well, I'll give you the whole story when I get home from work tomorrow, k? I'm just too tired to go through it all now."

He nodded his ascension, and she smiled at him once more before walking through the door and leaving him to the solitude of the basement.

Spike didn't move for a long time, just running the events of the last few minutes over in his mind.

He hunkered down on the bed, pulled the scratchy brown blanket over himself, and smiled.

Maybe there was a chance after all.


	14. Light it Up

Jade stepped into her darkened house, carefully easing the door shut with a barely audible 'click'. She stepped into the living room, squinting to find her way to the stairs without knocking into something.

Half-way around the couch, something furry brushed up against her leg. Jade jumped with a cry, then realized it was her cat.

"God, Shine, you scared me!" she whispered. Bending down, she scooped the black cat into her arms and rubbed her face against its head. "Aw, my poor baby, did you miss Mommy? Huh? Of course you did."

Completely engrossed in quietly baby-talking to Shine, she didn't notice someone approach her from the kitchen. A light flicked on.

Jade froze, one foot on the bottom stair. Slowly, she turned to face the woman backlit by the floor lamp. Curly red hair perfectly in place, night gown freshly ironed, and a look of absolute frustration marring the otherwise pleasant face.

"Jade-Ann Marie Ridoleau, where the Hell have you been?!"

She winced at the use of her full name, but she didn't shy away from the confrontation. Letting Shine leap out of her arms, she crossed her chest in defiance.

"I was out."

"No shit," the woman said sarcastically. Jade's lips pursed.

"What do you want me to say, Miriam? 'I'm sorry, I'll never do it again!'" The last part was said in a high-pitched whiny voice.

Miriam took a few angry steps towards the teen. She poked her finger in her face.

"You promised me this would stop when we moved here. I gave up a good job to bring you here so you could escape those crazy druggies you were hanging out with."

Jade sighed and rolled her eyes, a tell-tale sign that this was an argument the pair hashed out often.

"_First _of all, I never hung out with druggies. Second of all, I know I promised, it's just…I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I need to get out of the house, be out in the night."

Miriam shook her head. "You can't just climb out your bedroom window, Jade. I need to know where you're going. I really don't mind if you go out in the evening, as long as I know where you are. I need to be able to trust you, honey."

Pain crossed Jade's face momentarily, and she bowed her head shamefully. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to worry."

The redhead's face softened, and she grabbed the girl in a one-armed hug. "Can we agree on something? That you'll let me know when you're going out, and I'll give you the freedom?"

Jade looked quizzically up at her, before nodding.

"Okay. Good. Now, I have an appointment with your guidance counsellor tomorrow afternoon, so I hope you haven't skipped any classes yet."

"Aunt Miriam! I've only had one day of school!" Miriam laughed good-naturedly before guiding her niece up the stairs. "Besides, I've only made one friend, and you need at least three people to make the free time worthwhile."

The older woman raised an eyebrow before realizing that Jade was pulling her leg.

"Just get to bed," she sighed, and blew her niece a kiss. Jade headed into her room, Shine close on her heels.

****

She closed the door behind her and leaned against it. She hadn't been lying when she said that sometimes she felt like she needed to be out in the dark. But to her, it seemed more like an urge…

She pulled the wooden hairpin out of her waistband and tossed it in her open jewellery case. Then she yanked her shirt over her head and tugged her skirt off. Too exhausted to dig through her yet-to-be-unpacked suitcase for pyjamas, she climbed between her crisp sheets wearing only her underwear.

Shine jumped up beside her and Jade stroked her head to tail, getting a deep purr for her care. She smiled, and snuggled into her bed, willing herself to have one nightmare-free slumber.

In moments, she was drifting off to sleep, the only sound the rumbling of the cat's chest.

****

Aerosmith invaded her sleep. Jade's eyes opened lazily and she groaned as she rolled over to turn off her clock radio. Yawning, she stretched and kicked off her blankets.

She climbed out of bed and shrugged on her robe. As she tied it closed, she heard Shine mewing at the door.

"Hmm, I guess you want breakfast, hey? I'm hungry too."

Jade opened her door and Shine shot through it and practically flew down the stairs.

"Shine?" she called out. "What's wrong?"

A worried frown creased her forehead, and she cautiously descended to the main floor. As she entered the living room, she heard the cat's distressed cries from the kitchen. Jade grabbed a letter opener off the end table and crept towards the gap in the wall that led out of the room.

The kitchen was dark, the tiny shafts of light that crept in between the blinds weren't enough to illuminate the room. Jade reached out, her hand fumbling along the wall, until her fingers brushed against the light switch. She flicked it.

The steady drip of Miriam's blood pooling beneath the dining table was all her senses could register. She didn't see Shine lapping at the red liquid like it were milk, nor did she notice the way her aunt's intestines swung from the overhead fan.

Jade dropped the weapon she held and shuffled shakily towards the dead body. She reached out a trembling hand and closed the vacant eyes.

The smell in the room was rancid, like the body had been rotting for days. Her stomach crawled up her throat and she ran to the sink, emptying her dinner into it's steel tub.

She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, and fumbled with the tap, turning it the wrong way and not getting any water. Angrily, she smacked it with her palm, then turned it the right way, rinsing out her mouth by cupping her hands and dipping them into the stream.

A creak behind her made her pause, and she turned her head. Unnaturally strong hands grabbed her around the waist and threw her into the table. The weight of her body on top of her aunt's was too much for the wood, and it collapsed as she landed, splintering into pieces.

Jade scrambled to her feet, grabbing two sharp pieces of wood and tucking them into the long sleeves of her now open robe. She turned to face her attacker, and she found herself face to face with the ugliest vampire she had ever seen.

It cocked its head at her and sniffed the air. In a strange way, it reminded her of a hunting dog. She backed away slowly, but it followed her step for step. Fear getting the better of her, she turned and ran, hoping to make it to the front door before her assailant.

But it was incredibly fast, faster than any vamp she had encountered before. It caught her as she rounded the couch, and she was thrown against the wall. Plaster fell with the force of the impact, and she knew her hip was broken as she fell to the ground.

The Ubervamp stood above her, waiting. For what, she didn't know, and she didn't want to find out. Jade started dragging herself across the floor with her hands, and it followed behind her, watching intently. Irritated, and more than a little hysterical, she egged it on.

"Come on, aren't you going to kill me? I've got nice, warm blood in here. Or was Miriam's enough for you!"

It reached down and grabbed on of her ankles and yanked, pulling her towards it. She screamed as the pain in her hip increased tenfold, but she managed to keep herself from passing out. If only it would get close enough for her to stake it…

The vampire crawled above her, not touching her, but studying her face like it were a work of art. Jade was nearly hyperventilating by now, but her years of training allowed her to think clearly enough for her to slip one of the stakes out of her sleeve.

As it leaned in to taste her, she swung her arm in an arc and plunged the wood into its back, straight through the heart, and the pointed tip poked through its chest. It jerked back, away from her neck, and stared down at its body in confusion.

The Ubervamp stood up, and Jade flung herself away. It gripped the end of the stake, and pulled it out the front. She stared at it, shocked, then screamed for her life as it lunged towards her.

Jade squeezed her eyes shut, but the door opened then, and she heard a voice.

"You can't kill it that way, Jade-Ann. But it will burn."

Both hunter and prey turned. There stood Dawn, torch in hand.

"No, Dawn! You have to get out of here. This is a monster!"

But she came further into the room, holding the burning stick in front of her. The front door closed behind her, and there stood a young man, bow in hand, aimed right for the tall brunette's head.

Dawn was oblivious to the danger behind her. Jade tried to warn her, but it was too late. The quiver flew, and it hit its mark straight and true.

Her body fell to the ground beside Jade, and the torch rolled within reach. Instinctively, she grabbed it up and thrust it into the demon's chest. It screamed and flailed about before combusting into flames and turning to dust.

Jade fell back exhaustedly on the floor, and the man came forward to examine his handiwork. She turned to him.

"Zeke, why? Why did you do it?" she asked pitifully.

He looked back at her and held her gaze. "No one can know about you, Jade. This is the consequence."

"But they didn't know!" she pleaded. He shook his blond head sorrowfully.

"Maybe not yet, but they will."

****

Jade sat up in bed, sticky with sweat. This dream was horrible, like all the others she'd had every night since she'd left France. Maybe she needed to get some kind of sleeping aid, she thought.

She went to the window to let in some fresh air, but found it jammed. Pulling back the curtain, she saw that Miriam had put nails in the frame as stoppers. Jade sighed and sank onto the bed.

Shine padded across the comforter and nuzzled her hand. Absently, she pet the cat, and stared out the window into the night.


	15. Into the Warm Sun

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**A/N: Woah, it's been a super-long time since I've written a chapter of this story. But hey, I've been busy. And I wrote a whole other ficlet and began a short fic too. There will be an interlude coming soon after this, so hopefully I'll get back into the rhythm of the story again. Anyways, enjoy, cuz it took me a damn long time to get this one out of my brain. Ciao, Chelle. **

8:32 a.m.

Jade slid into her seat next to Dawn and dropped her heavy bag to the tile floor with a sigh.

"They need to make lighter textbooks," she complained.

"Definitely. Like, fat-free education," Dawn dead-panned. Jade rolled her eyes. "What do you have in there? My bag's not as heavy as yours."

"Oh, you know, biology, chemistry, English, a world atlas, a copy of the constitution, and the original ten commandments. The tablets, not the movie."

Dawn raised her eyebrows. "Um, right."

Mr. Winters strode into the classroom then and immediately began handing out a new assignment. The students groaned as they looked over the papers, and a carpet of chatter began to fill the air.

Dawn glanced at the sheet and grimaced. "'In groups of four, analyze a scene from Shakespeare's _Hamlet_ and find a creative way to present it to the class.' Oh, my god. Could this _get_ any lamer? We did stuff like this in grade 9!"

"I've never done Shakespeare before," Jade enthused. Dawn gawked at her with shocked eyes and a slack jaw. "I went to school in France for a long time," she explained, "and they didn't really teach us about the English writers, you know? The French have strong national pride."

"Well hey, why don't we go together and I'll teach you everything I know about Shakespeare. Which is: 'dead' and 'boring'. On second thought, we'd better find some smart kids to pair with."

__

9:38 a.m.

"Ms. Summers?"

Buffy looked up at the woman standing in her doorway. She was a school secretary, the same one who had shown her around the office on her first day. 

Margaret…Maggie…Melinda…dammit, what's her name?

"Oh, uh, hi! Do you need - I mean, is there something I can do for you?"

"There's a Ms. Harder here to see you. She says she has an appointment?"

"Right! Right. Um, can you tell her I'll just be a moment…" _Molly, Margot, Makayla, Millicent _"…please?"

"Of course."

The secretary left and Buffy dragged Jade's file out once again. There were many things she wanted to ask Ms. Harder, especially regarding Jade's current living situation. It seemed strange to her that the girl would choose to come all the way to America to live with her mother's cousin.

Buffy sighed and stood from her desk. She desperately wanted this day to be over so she could take the Potentials out and have them running all over the cemetery, chasing vamps, scouting crypts and generally doing her job. Boy, was it going to be fun!

She made her way out into the small waiting room and picked out Miriam Harder straight away. The woman was slight, with flaming red hair, but it was the determination and strength in her posture that set her apart as Jade's aunt.

Buffy held out her hand in greeting, and Miriam shook it warmly. The meeting had begun.

****

"So, is there anything you'd specifically like to bring to my attention today, Ms. Harder?"

"Oh, please, call me Miriam."

"Okay, in that case, you can call me Buffy." The women exchanged friendly smiles.

"Well…Buffy…I would like to explain a few things about Jade."

Buffy leaned forward in her chair and gave Miriam her best 'guidance counsellor' look. Although the older woman seemed very pleasant and, under any other circumstances, she would probably try to set her up with Giles, Buffy just wanted the day to be over so she could go home and talk to Spike about the evening's plans.

She was beginning to get nervous that maybe he wasn't healed enough and was thinking that perhaps calling the whole thing off might be a good idea. Except for the fact, of course, that he'd probably convince her into believing he was in top shape and completely capable of handling a few Slayers in Training.

And of course this pre-occupation with Spike's health was distracting her from the important things. Like which gear was 'drive' and which was 'reverse'. And whether or not her shirt was on inside-out. Or what the name of that damn secretary was!

"You see," Miriam began, "Jade's had quite a hard life." Buffy gave her the 'go on' grunt. "Um, well, as I'm sure you saw in her file, she's an orphan."

Buffy nodded. "That must have been hard on her. I know what it's like to be left without parents. My mom died two years ago, and my dad…well, nobody really knows where he is. Probably on some tropical island living the rest of his days with his secretary. But, um, yeah. It must have been hard."

Miriam nodded sullenly. "It was. Her whole village was destroyed in the fire, and she had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. Eventually, she was found wandering the streets of Paris and was placed in a school for troubled children."

"You mean an orphanage," Buffy clarified.

"Basically, yes. She was there for three years before I was contacted about my sister's death and the status of my niece. I had her immediately sent to live with me in New York. Being her only living relative, I thought it would be better for her to be with me than in some god awful French institution.

"Needless to say, we didn't get along very well. Though she could speak perfectly good English, taught to her, I assume, by her mother, she refused to converse in anything other than French. She didn't trust me, you see. It was months before she finally felt comfortable enough with me to want to talk.

"Anyway, after a while, I started noticing her behaving oddly."

"What do you mean by 'oddly'?" Buffy queried.

Miriam frowned in mild confusion. "I don't know how to explain it, really. It was more a _feeling_ than anything else, I suppose. She was quiet, withdrawn - more so than usual. Every once in a while she would sneak out her bedroom window just after nightfall. God only knows what she was doing on the streets of New York at that age. I tried to keep her in at night, tried to get her to talk to me, but it was like…it was like she was living in another world? In some fantasy reality?

"One night, I got a phone call from the hospital. Jade had been brought in with an injured boy and she herself was receiving treatment for some minor cuts and bruises. I rushed down there, and I found her sitting by his side, holding his hand. I'd never seen him before, but she seemed to know him very well. I tried to get her to explain to me what happened, but she wouldn't speak to me.

"I told her we were going to move. That I was going to get her out of that city and find her a nice, safe place to live. And for once, she didn't argue. We started searching for towns in the south that sounded quiet and respectable. She decided on this one.

"I know she said goodbye to her friend, because one morning I woke up to find all my roses picked. We couldn't take them with us, so I guess she decided to make use of them. Then we moved, and she never said a word about any of it. I really, _really_ just want this to be the end of her troubles. I want her to be happy here. I want her to be safe."

Miriam's eyes clouded with tears and she blinked them back profusely. Buffy regarded the woman with pity and understanding in her heart. This must have been how her mother felt when they first moved to Sunnydale themselves. The divorce was going through, Buffy had just been expelled from Hemery, and Joyce was trying to start her own business. It seemed like too much for one person to handle.

Buffy supposed it was. She plucked a Kleenex from the box on her desk and made her way to where Miriam sat. She handed the tissue to her and knelt to wrap a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"It's okay, Miriam. You can cry here."

Miriam's breath hitched once, then twice, and soon she was sobbing into Buffy's offered shoulder. It felt good to finally be allowed to give in to her emotions, and for some reason this young girl understood that need to just…_let go!_

The two women huddled in the office together for some time. Around them, the school continued it's routine.

__

10:24 a.m.

"So, let me get this straight. Amanda, Jade and I are going to do the research, rewrite the scene in plain English, gather the props and costumes, and you're going to, what? Contribute to our aesthetics mark?"

Dawn glared at the boy sitting at their table in the cafeteria. He had his feet propped up on the chair beside him and he was taking absolutely no interest in the project at hand.

"Uh, sure, as long as…that word…doesn't mean something bad."

Amanda rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Jade gave him the death-glare (complete with folded arms, pursed lips, and an arched eyebrow), but did nothing but grunt in disapproval. Dawn on the other hand, ever the outspoken one, barely restrained herself from unleashing a can of whoopass on him that would impress even the ex-vengeance demon Anya, and settled for some good old-fashioned screaming.

"_YOU, _Shawn, are the most _infuriating_ and _incorrigible_ person I have _EVER MET!!_ And I've met some _real_ evil people! IF you don't want to work on this project, that's FINE with ME, but you'll have to _explain_ to Mr. Winters why you don't have a part in our play, 'cause we _SURE AS HELL AREN'T GOING TO WRITE YOU IN OUT OF THE KINDNESS OF OUR HEARTS!!_"

Shawn took his feet off the chair and leaned forward to get into Dawn's face. "Look, _Summers,_ I don't want any trouble. You just do this stupid little project for me, and maybe I'll ask you to the Winter Formal."

"Ex_cuse_ me?! I do _not _need to bribe you into taking me to the dance! I don't even _want_ to go to the dance! And even if I DID I would _not_ go with YOU!!"

He narrowed his eyes menacingly. She glared back defiantly. They sat that way until Amanda cleared her throat and finally drew their attention.

"O-kay…so, I think we've all agreed that Shawn isn't going to sit this one out. Why don't we all exchange numbers and we'll arrange a research party?"

The other three looked at her sceptically before scribbling their digits on scrap pieces of paper. As the bell rang signalling the change of class, the group cleared their things from the table and began heading their separate ways. Shawn swung his backpack up just as Dawn and Jade stepped around the table, knocking Dawn's books out of her hands.

"Oh, sorry Summers," he sneered. Dawn merely glared at him and knelt to pick up her things. He made a move to kick one of them further away, but Jade stepped up and gave him a hard shove.

Shawn fell against the table, and he stared at her in open shock. Dawn looked up, surprised, and Amanda just ignored the whole scene. Jade stood her ground, allowing Dawn time to gather her books safely in her arms before they headed out of the cafeteria. Just as they were heading into the hall, Shawn called after them.

"I'm not scared of you, you know! Just because your sister's the counsellor and you've got that pitbull on a short leash," he said, nodding towards Jade, whose whole body stiffened at the insult, "doesn't mean you're any better than the rest of us."

Dawn's hateful expression slowly melted into one of guilt and acceptance. Buffy had thought herself to be better than the rest of her friends, and that's what had really screwed up her life. But Dawn knew she wasn't better than everyone - just him.

"You've got it all wrong, Shawn," she said, shaking her head sadly. "You've got it all wrong."

****

"Can you believe the nerve of that jerk?" Dawn demanded of Jade as they walked to their next class. They pressed through the pulsing bodies around them and tried to maintain their conversation by talking over shoulders and shouting over heads.

Jade was feeling incredibly claustrophobic among so many people. The people staring at her, the bodies that jostled her every now and then, the smell of too much perfume and cologne…suddenly she felt a little woozy.

"Dawn," she called out to her friend.

"…and I mean, it's not like I ever even gave him a reason to think I liked him that way. Well, maybe there was all that staring I used to do during math last year. Anyway, he had no right to just _assume_ I have no date to Winter Formal, even if I _don't_…"

Jade stopped following Dawn and focused all her senses on what her body was telling her. _Oh, God, not here. Not now!_

The world began to spin around her, and the sounds that rampaged the hallway grew muffled in her ears, like she was underwater. In a panicked moment, she flashbacked to her near-drowning back home. She swayed slightly as she felt the ground beneath her feet tilt ever so slightly in a soft rolling motion. Her eyes raised, and she could just barely make out Dawn's concerned face swimming among the many unfamiliar ones in the sea of bodies.

"Jade? Jade! Are you okay? What's wrong?" Dawn asked, a touch of panic entering her voice.

But Jade didn't respond. She merely stood there staring blankly off at some point just behind Dawn's head. The crowd around them began to part, backing away from Jade like she had some kind of tropical disease.

"Jade?" came a voice from behind her. Dawn turned and saw a red-haired woman coming towards them, Buffy close on her heels.

She turned back just in time to see her friend dropping to the floor, and managed to catch her before her head connected with the floor. Buffy and the redhead rushed to her side and helped her lower Jade to the floor.

Jade's eyes fluttered open briefly and focused on the stranger. "Miriam," she whispered, before finally slipping into unconsciousness.

Dawn backed frantically away, feeling her chest constrict with the panic welling inside her. This was how her mother looked in her coffin. This was how she remembered Spike looking while he slept. This is what Tara's body looked like when she found it in the bedroom.

She turned on her heel and ran, pushing people out of her way in her desperate attempt to escape the horrors of her past. She heard Buffy call her name, but she ignored it, and plunged out into the warm sun.


	16. Interlude: Wary of the Dark

***_A/N: This is just an interlude, not a full-fledged chapter. I just haven't had the time (or the inspiration) to write regularly, so this is all you're getting for now. Sorry. ***_

She stood upon a battlefield, the ground beneath her feet charred by some unknown flame. Ahead there was a deep gorge that seemed to stretch away forever in each direction. She walked to the edge and peered down into it's vast emptiness.

The sound of galloping horses made her turn, and before her she saw an army of Hell Knights riding across the beaten ground, weapons raised in some unspoken call to arms.

She walked towards them, unafraid, un-alarmed by their disfigured countenances or the trail of blood that lay in their wake. They stormed towards her, a wall of evil menace, but she stood before them, unwavering.

As they closed in, she saw in the distance two blonde heads sparkling in the night. They raised their weapons in salute, and she nodded in return. Then the Hell Knights were upon her, and she could no longer see them.

Satan's warriors flowed past her, around her, through her; she stood untouched. They rode on, unaware of her presence, and leaped into the crevasse, horses and all.

She watched them plummet, then headed in the direction she had last seen a living soul. Bones crunched beneath her feet and blood squished as it oozed through the still-bleeding orifices of the many casualties of war. Her eyes passed over them - demons and humans alike, body parts missing, sucking chest wounds glaring in the moonlight.

A hand twitched. She waded through the bodies and grasped it, pulling it's owner out of the carnage. It was attached to a slender arm that led to the slightly plump body of another blonde figure.

"Who are you?" she asked the woman, who currently stood straightening her blood-stained shirt and trying to gather her bearings.

"Wh-who am I?" the woman repeated, as if unsure she had heard correctly. "I think the better question is, who are you?"

"I am…me," she replied. The blonde looked sympathetically down at her.

"No. You are not you. You are someone else."

The woman took her gently by the hand and led her through the piles of corpses, walking in a convoluted line towards the edge of the field where the ground turns up to meet the sky. A mesa, it was called. She knew that from somewhere.

"Where are we going?" she asked. The woman gave her a slight smile and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"We are going to meet your destiny," the woman replied.

"Oh…Why?" she asked.

"Because you don't understand yet."

"What's your name?" she asked. The woman smiled shyly at her.

"Tara."

"What's my name?"

"You don't remember?" She shook her head. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll remember it in no time. As soon as we reach the top, you can ask them if they know your name," Tara assured her.

When they neared the base of the mesa, Tara released her hand and stepped away. She looked at Tara strangely.

"Aren't you coming with me?" she asked.

Tara shook her head. "This is a journey you must make yourself...you understand, don't you?"

"No, I don't think I do," she muttered. Her hands and feet grasped at the rock face and she pulled herself up foot by foot. The skin of her fingers began to crack and peel, flecks of her blood leaving a trail to tell all those who came after where she had been.

Finally she reached the top, sweaty, bleeding, and thoroughly exhausted. With great difficulty, her tired arms hauled her body over the ledge and she crawled on hands and knees until she could move no longer.


	17. Tea, Anyone?

__

Suddenly she was falling, the ground rushing up to meet her in a dizzying spin of brown and grey. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came. Her body struck the side of the cliff, and she began tumbling end over end in a sickening somersault of death...

Buffy heard her gasp and turned to watch Jade shoot off the couch, apparently finally conscious. The girl looked around wildly, momentarily disoriented, before sitting back on the 'infirmary bed' and rubbing her temples tiredly.

"How are you feeling?" she asked as she approached the patient. Jade looked up, startled, confusion dancing across her features.

"Huh? Oh, um, I'm fine."

"What happened?" Buffy asked, gently easing Jade into conversation.

She shifted slightly in her seat. "I think I got claustrophobic. Felt like I couldn't breathe. Guess I passed out, huh?" Buffy nodded.

Just then Miriam came into the room, mug of tea in her hands. "Oh, honey, you're awake! Thank God, we were so worried about you," she exclaimed, pressing the steaming cup into her niece's hands.

"I'm okay, Miriam," Jade said reassuringly, testing the tea with the tip of her tongue before deciding it was too hot to drink yet. She put it on the nearest surface and folded her hands demurely in her lap. "I'm sorry I worried you."

Buffy waved a dismissive hand at her. "You didn't do it on purpose - you never know when claustrophobia will attack."

Miriam gave Jade a strange look. "Claustrophobia?"

"Yeah, lots of people in the hall, I didn't know anyone...guess I got overwhelmed."

"Oh, that's a relief! I thought maybe this was a repeat of New York," Miriam sighed. Now it was Buffy's turn to look at Jade strangely.

"What about New York?"

"Oh," Miriam began, completely missing Jade's slightly panicked look, "Jade used to pass out like that on a weekly basis. At first I thought it was drugs, but she insisted it wasn't. The doctor suggested it was narcolepsy, but Jade slept fine. I'm convinced it was some expression of post-traumatic stress."

Jade sighed in exasperation before hopping off the couch and slinging her schoolbag over her shoulder. "Well, thanks for taking care of me, but I've got to get to class - wouldn't want to get kicked out for truancy on my second day. See you later, Miss Summers; bye Miriam."

With that, Jade disappeared out the door and into the hallway, leaving Buffy and Miriam staring after her. Buffy frowned and Miriam sighed, and both bid eachother farewell. The older woman left the office, and the younger stood regarding the slowly cooling tea.

The secretary Buffy had talked to earlier came out of Principal Wood's office. She walked past her and gave her a small smile which Buffy returned.

"Bernadette?" one of the other secretaries called out. The woman turned at the sound of her name and headed back the way she had come. Buffy gawked at her dumbfoundedly.

__

Bernadette, she repeated in her head. _And here I thought it started with 'M'._ With a shake of her head, she turned and headed into her cubicle for a nice, relaxing afternoon of paperwork.

****

"Jade? Jade!" She turned and waited for Amanda to catch up with her. The girl was tall, even taller than herself, with long, almost stringy brown hair with gangly arms and legs. Jade winced as Amanda tripped over her own feet and almost did a faceplant on the asphalt.

"Hey! I'm glad I caught up to you. I talked to Dawn and Shawn and they're both free tonight, so we can do research at the library, say, around 6ish? If that's okay with you, of course."

Jade frowned slightly. "Yeah, ok. Sounds good. Hey, do you know where Dawn is now?" she asked.

Amanda shook her head. "Last I saw she was heading to meet her sister at the jeep."

"Oh, okay," Jade nodded, disappointed that she wouldn't get to apologize for scaring her only friend.

"By the way, I heard about what happened earlier," Amanda added, as if picking up on Jade's train of thought. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine. Just got a little claustrophobic." Amanda nodded in sympathetic understanding. Jade liked this excuse - too bad she hadn't thought of it before.

"Well, I gotta get going. I've got band practice after school and if I'm late, I have to do laps."

Jade gave her a confused look. "Mr. Tuba's the band and the gym teacher. He's a strange, strange man." Amanda headed back into the school and Jade continued on her way.

She had been planning on exploring the graveyards tonight, to map out vampire activity, but it looks like that would have to wait until another day. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar blonde head duck behind a large oak tree. Jade paused and focused her attention, trying to make sure she'd seen what she thought she saw...

There! She raced towards the tree, chasing after the person she had seen. But when she got there, nobody was in sight.

"Zeke?" she called out, circling the tree and keeping her eyes and ears peeled for him. "Zeke, is that you?"

There was no answer, and for all her searching, she came up empty. _Maybe I _did_ imagine it_. With one last cursory glance, Jade headed for home.

Some time later, a young man hopped out of the tree where he'd concealed himself in the foliage. He stared in the direction she had gone, and followed.


	18. Hide and Seek

__

**A/N: Whoah, sorry for the long time updating, but I think I'm back in the groove! Yay! Well, anyway, this chapter's a bit longer than usual, but I think it's worth it. And don't forget to review! ~Chelle~**

The Potentials stood huddled together underneath the relative safety of their umbrella. It had started to drizzle just before they left for the cemetery, and now the girls stood waiting for Buffy's next instructions, cold, wet, and miserable.

Molly wiped at her nose with her sleeve. Rona rubbed her sore shoulder. Chloe kept hopping from one foot to the other (she had stepped in a large puddle during their 'learn your surroundings' session, when she had tried to find her way through the headstones blindfolded, and now her sneakers were soaked). Vi and Kennedy were both currently being 'hunted' by Spike, who had successfully caught the other three in under five minutes.

Buffy watched from her perch on a nearby mausoleum. She could see Vi about twenty meters away, standing completely motionless, trying to focus her senses and locate her hunter. Her head snapped to the side, and Buffy knew she had sensed him. _Good for you..._

Vi raised her stake in the air threateningly and began backing away from a dense cluster of trees. Buffy saw movement in the branches, and Vi took off at a sprint. A blond blur raced after her at inhuman speed, and it caught up with no trouble at all. The Potential was tackled from behind, and the two figures struggled.

In the end, the vampire dominated the girl, straddling her as he leaned in for the 'kill'. Buffy smiled a little as she watched Spike help Vi to her feet, and pointed her in the direction of the other girls.

"Vi's down," Buffy calmly stated. She had been a little surprised that Vi had lasted longer than Rona, since the other girl had always seemed to have a stronger handle on not only the fighting, but on the 'kill now, think later' philosophy. But now it was clear that Vi was definitely more in tune with her inner Slayer, having been the only one of them so far to actually sense the approaching vampire.

Buffy watched curiously as Spike began turning in circles, trying to locate his prey. His face was screwed up in great concentration; under different circumstances, Buffy may have laughed. But she had the sinking feeling that he wasn't going to find Kennedy.

She hopped down from her perch. "We've got a problem," she told the others and motioned for them to follow her. They made their way through the cemetery, Buffy leading them to Spike's position by using her own heightened senses.

When they reached him, he had begun pacing, a classic sign that he was agitated. "Where is she?" Buffy asked, but already knew the answer.

"Can't find her," he said, stopping his movement so he could converse with her. "Lost her about ten minutes ago, but I thought it was because I had focused so intently on Vi."

"What do you mean, 'you can't find her'? All you're doing is standing in one spot," Chloe piped up. Vi rolled her eyes at her friend's idiocy.

"The whole point of these exercises has been to try to hone our Slayer senses. You think we're the only ones who can hunt that way? Spike has special vampire senses. He can smell you, hear you from far away, and he can also hear your heartbeat," Vi explained. "Don't you listen to Anya's lessons?"

"Wait a second," Rona interjected, "does that mean you can't find her heartbeat?"

Spike didn't answer, but he resumed pacing, which was as good as an admission. Buffy tiredly ran her hand through her hair. "Well, I guess we'd better split up and search for her," she reasoned.

"Last time I saw her, she was heading into this crypt," Vi offered.

"Show us," Buffy demanded, and Vi led the way.

****

The bell above the door tinkled as Willow entered the travel agency. She unconsciously took stock of the situation, as any good fighter-of-evil would do. The only exit to the room was the door at her back, though she doubted she'd need to escape.

The man sitting behind the single, lonely desk was pushing fifty, by the looks of it - gray hair, masses of wrinkles, and a not-so-keen fashion sense. He so far hadn't noticed her arrival. _Probably a little deaf, too._

"Ahem," she sounded, trying to nonchalantly announce her arrival. The man behind the desk looked up, clearly startled, and pulled out a cross.

"Don't come any closer! I-I know what you are!" he cried, getting to his feet.

Willow stared at him, feeling a little guilty now for having frightened him. "Oh, no, I'm not - I mean, you can put that away, I'm human."

The man didn't move to lower his 'weapon'. Instead, he looked her over again, unconvinced. "You're dressed like one of them," he reasoned.

Willow looked down at herself. She remembered that she had thought it might be necessary to play the part of a bad-ass, in case Spike had over-estimated the man's gratitude. Her clothes were black, a wee bit reminiscent of both EvilWillow and VampWillow, with her leather pants (courtesy of Buffy's closet), hooker boots (that Anya had lent her), and tight red blouse (only tight because she'd pulled it out of the laundry and it most likely belonged to one of the young Potentials), accentuated by the black leather duster she'd found in the back of Buffy's closet, which looked (and smelled) suspiciously like Spike's.

"Well, yeah, I...I like to look intimidating, so vamps won't mess with me," she said with a slight flip of her hair. She eyed him cautiously, trying to gauge if her act was working.

"Ooookayyyyyy, then, if you're not a vampire here to rip out my throat...what do you want?"

"Oh," she said with a smile, visibly relieved, "I'm a friend of Spike's. We were wondering if -"  
  
"SPIKE! You know Spike?! Well, come in, come in! Have a seat!" The man dragged over a chair from the corner and gestured for her to take it. It was clear to Willow that she had been the one to misjudge the man's gratitude.

She graciously sat on the chair he had offered, and he sat as well, tossing his cross into a drawer. "So, you mentioned that Spike needs something?" he asked.

__

Straight and to the point. I like that. "Yes, you see, well, Spike is a little...under-the-weather...and the only cure for him is in Romania, so he was thinking -"

"Round-trip tickets sound good? How soon would he like to be going?" The man began typing away at his computer.

"Oh, uh, as soon as possible, I guess," Willow replied. This was all too weird to her. 'There's someone other than Clem who's willing to help Spike out?' she wondered to herself.

"Now," the man interrupted her thoughts, "as I'm sure you know I can't make these tickets for a Mr. Spike the Vampire, so will these be under your name, Ms...?"

"Rosenberg. And, no, uh, I guess they should be for a Mr. Rupert Giles."

"Rupert...Giles... All right. Now, these are for tomorrow afternoon at 3:00, and you can simply come back whenever you like - just use this voucher here and ask for a ticket."

"Thank you so much! We really appreciate this. _Spike_ really appreciates this."

"Oh, no problem. And they're on the house, of course. Can't put a price on repaying a man for saving my life."

He handed her the ticket and the voucher, and gave her a warm smile she couldn't help but return. She thanked him again and headed out the door. As the bell tinkled again, she had an idea.

"Your cross could prevent vampires from getting in if you tacked it on your door frame or something." He looked at her with a quizzical expression. "It's just a thought," she quickly retracted, and hurried out the door.

The man sat for a while after she left before going in search of a hammer and nail.

****

"Oh, my GOD! If he doesn't show up, I swear I'm going to _kill_ him!" Dawn had taken to pacing the library as they waited for Shawn to arrive. As the time approached 7:00, a full hour after their agreed rendezvous, Dawn had begun to get extremely agitated.

"I'm sure he'll be here, just give him a little more time," Amanda tried to reason.

"Nah," Jade said as she stood, "let's just leave. He's obviously not coming."

Dawn nodded in agreement and huffily picked up her bag. "Hey, wait! Wait for me!" Amanda cried as the other two girls stormed out of the library.

"I mean, first of all, he doesn't want to have anything to do with this project, then he decides not to show up to work with us - does this guy have a death wish or what? When I get my hands on him -"

Jade stopped abruptly in front of Dawn, and Amanda, in her hurry to catch up, didn't notice and slammed into her from behind.

"Geez, watch it, Amanda! You could've knocked me over!"

"Shut.up." Jade growled. The three teens stood silently in the middle of the hallway, and that's when Dawn noticed the blood streaming out of the boys' washroom.

'Oh God oh God oh God,' she repeated in her head as she tried to think of what to do. But Jade decided for her. She pulled a stake from her bag and advanced on the door.

"What are you doing?!" Amanda asked in a high-pitched, panicked voice.

"I said shut up," Jade replied calmly in a level but decidedly frightening tone. She pushed the door, and the other two watched as she struggled to open it. Her shoes slid around in the blood at her feet, and she silently prayed she wouldn't fall into it.

Finally, she managed to get it open, and a body fell through the doorway and landed with a sickening 'plop' at her feet. Jade had to fight down the urge to run, and forced herself to look down.

Behind her, she heard Dawn gasp in horror, and was sure she could hear Amanda's heart beating manically in her chest. Lying there, dead on the floor, was Shawn, his throat torn by what she recognized as vampire bites.

She backed slowly away from the body and turned to her friends. Dawn produced two stakes from her bag and handed one to Amanda, who stared at it dumbfoundedly. Though neither knew how the other was aware of the existence of vampires, Dawn and Jade decided not to question it, and, for the moment, simply try to escape with their lives.

"Run," Dawn whispered, and the three girls took off down the hallway, each one hoping against all hope that the creature who had killed their friend was not lying in wait for them.


	19. The Enigma

The girls raced through the hallways, whipping around corners at break-neck speed. Images of their slain friend kept flashing in front of their eyes, and Amanda was trying desperately not to empty her stomach on the cool tiled floor.

Ahead, they saw the last corner before the exit. Dawn silently thanked whatever God there might be for letting them leave safely. Jade glanced back at the others and gave them an encouraging smile before taking the corner – and running smack into the creature they were trying to escape from.

The girls collided together as Jade bounced off the vampire's solid chest and Dawn and Amanda couldn't stop their desperate run. They fell to the ground in a jumble of limbs, and the vampire leered over them.

He reached for them with dirty, soil-caked hands. 'Newly risen,' Jade noted. She reached into her blouse and withdrew an ornate cross, brandishing it in front of her. The vampire hissed, and brought his hands up to shield his eyes.

Jade used his momentary weakness to her advantage. She lashed out with her foot and connected squarely with his stomach. He stumbled backwards, and Jade quickly climbed to her feet.

"Get up!" she hissed at her friends, who struggled to their feet behind her. The vampire glared at her, his yellow eyes glowing in the near-dark. She swung her bag in a menacing arc, prepared to use it to defend her life.

The vampire, undaunted, attacked. Jade smashed her heavy bag over its head, and it staggered to the side. Then she gave it a roundhouse kick to the jaw, and it slammed into the wall.

Dawn grabbed Jade's hand and dragged her back the way they came. Amanda was running ahead of them, tugging on classroom doors, trying to find one they could use as a safe-haven. 

"Forget it," Dawn called to her, "we need to find another exit." She glanced behind her and saw the vampire rounding the corner, looking very pissed off. "And quickly!"

****

Willow drove home in contemplative silence. She was still a little amazed that her meeting with the travel agent had gone so…_well_. Absently, she fingered the envelope inside the leather jacket.

She stopped at a red light and saw the cemetery up ahead. "Why don't I just pop in and see how things are going?" she asked herself. "It's not cuz I want to see Kennedy, no siree, I just want to give Spike the good news about Romania. Yup. Romania."

The light turned green and she pulled up just outside the gates. She squinted out the windshield into the vast darkness between the headstones. As far as she could tell, there was no movement in the cemetery.

Frowning, she exited the Summers' jeep and warily slipped through the wrought-iron gates. She was tempted to cast an illumination spell, because it was hard for her to see her hand in front of her face, but she resisted.

She slowly made her way down the dirt path that wound beneath her feet. Having patrolled these grounds many nights over the past seven years, she knew that if she kept walking down this path she would eventually get to Spike's old crypt. From there, she could climb on top of the angel headstone and see the whole cemetery – it wouldn't be long before she located her friends.

A cool gust of wind tickled her skin, and she pulled Spike's duster tighter around herself. She was suddenly grateful for its warm comfort and familiarity when she was becoming concerned for Buffy's safety, and the well being of those under her watch.

Willow was kind of beginning to understand what it was about Spike that drew Buffy to him. He's always exuded this sense of danger, but now she saw that there was a soft side to him. Of course he'd always been kind to Dawn, but this extended beyond the people he cared about.

Take the travel agent, for instance. Spike hadn't been back from Africa and _sane_ long enough to be able to rid him of his vampire problem, so he must have done it before he'd gotten his soul. But why? Obviously it wasn't to impress Buffy, because she knew nothing about it. So why would a man who claimed, at the time, to still be evil, save the life of someone he didn't even know?

Besides the enigma that is Spike, Willow also had to admit that there was something about this jacket that Buffy liked. After all, she had kept it in her closet after he'd left, even though he had tried to rape her and gave no indication that he'd be returning.

And it smelled of cigarettes and booze – why would Buffy want to put something in her closet that smelled of cigarettes and booze? _Maybe because it smells like Spike?_

Willow was dragged out of her ponderings by the sound of distant voices. She paused and listened hard – it was Buffy, and a decidedly British voice…Spike! "Thank the Gods," she muttered to herself before heading in their direction.

****

The vampire was clearly in no hurry. He walked after them, watching amusedly as they alternately tugged on doors and glanced back nervously at him. The one who fought him was gripping a stake tightly in her hand – she looked unafraid.

She stopped following her friends and stood in the middle of the hall. Dawn looked back at her and began to panic. "Jade, we need to go! Jade!"

"We should fight," Jade replied calmly. She could beat this vamp, she knew she could. Confidently, she twirled her weapon between her fingers.

Dawn gaped at her. "What? NO, we're not fighting! We're leaving. Now!"

But Jade remained where she stood and adopted a fighting stance. The vampire licked his lips, anticipating his next meal. Amanda nervously wrung her hands, unsure what was going to happen.

A noise behind her made her turn. Stalking towards them were two robed figures, ceremonial knives in hand. When she noticed their eyes were gouged out, she screamed.

Dawn whipped around and had to stifle a scream herself. The Bringers were advancing on them, which meant they were trapped between a rock and a hard place. Jade risked a glance at the commotion behind her and pulled a double take.

"What the Hell are _they_ doing here?" she demanded of no one in particular. Dawn looked at her, and Jade saw the fear in her eyes. In one decisive motion, she ran at the vampire and shoved him forcefully into a door, which broke under his weight.

"This way!" she screamed, and took off towards the exit once more. Amanda and Dawn followed her, no questions asked. But when they reached the main foyer, they found more Bringers.

"Holy shit," Dawn breathed. They were coming out of every orifice this school had – they were screwed.

"What do we do?" Amanda asked as she clung to Jade's arm. For once, the rebel was at a loss. She knew how to kill vampires and werewolves and various other demons – but Bringers? They were only supposed to come after Potential Slayers, for one thing. And she had never encountered them before.

Dawn glanced furtively around, trying to come up with a plan. _What would Buffy do, what would Buffy do…?_

"I've got an idea!" she cried, and raced for the second floor stairs.

****

"Willow!"

"Buffy, what's going on?"

The redhead had found the Slayer coming out of a derelict crypt, cell phone in hand. She could see Spike and the Potentials through the door that lay only half on its hinges. The vampire was trying to lift what looked like felled cement supports.

"Will, I was just about to call you! We've got a problem."

"What kind of problem?"

"Kennedy's trapped in a big hole…" 

Willow missed the rest of Buffy's explanation because her heart had suddenly begun to beat so loudly it was all she could hear. _Kennedy's in trouble?_

"How can I help," she interrupted. Buffy stopped mid-sentence and regarded her friend. She knew that Willow and Kennedy had gotten close in the time the Potential had been staying with them, but she hadn't been sure just _how_ close until this moment.

"I thought you might be able to magic her out or something – if you're feeling up to it of course! I mean, not that you wouldn't be up to it, but…okay, why don't you just do what you can, and we'll go from there."

Willow and Buffy exchanged lop-sided smiles before heading into the crypt. Spike stepped away so that the witch could assess the situation. She knelt next to the pile of rubble and put her hands out.

She closed her eyes and focused on channeling the magic. It seeped from her outstretched palms and snaked through the spaces in the rocks, down, down into the cave below. There sat Kennedy, tired, dirty and frightened.

//It's okay,// Willow spoke into the other girl's mind. //We'll get you out of there.// Kennedy nodded, and even though Willow couldn't see her, she knew that she'd heard.

She stood then and faced the blondes. "I can't just 'poof' her out or anything, but I can help you move the rubble." Willow took position on the floor, Indian-style, and placed her wrists on her knees, allowing her hands to dangle loosely. She slowed her breathing and focused her mind, and the rocks began to tremble.

Buffy and Spike were able to remove the rocks as Willow loosened them, and soon they had made a hole big enough for Spike to reach in and pull the trapped girl out through.

He lay on the ground and reached his arm in as far as he could. Kennedy reached up and grabbed it just below the elbow, and he did the same to her. He pulled her straight up, the muscles of his back rippling beneath his shirt as he pushed himself up. Buffy took a moment to secretly admire him before he had lifted Kennedy as far as he could unaided.

She stepped up and grabbed Kennedy's other arm and together they hauled her out of her stony prison. The girl clutched her rescuers for a few moments before she felt she was strong enough to stand.

"Sorry," she mumbled as she pushed her dirty hair out of her face. Spike rubbed her back gently, reassuring her with words of forgiveness. She smiled shyly at him before running over and embracing the other Potentials who awaited her with open arms.

Willow stood, brushing the crypt dust off her clothes. Kennedy disengaged from her group hug and took her hand.

"Thanks, Willow," she said, giving her a meaningful look. Willow blushed slightly and stammered that it was nothing. But Kennedy would have none of it, and snaked a loving arm around her waist, causing the witch to blush even more furiously.

"Well," Buffy began, trying to take everyone's attentions away from the lovebirds, "I think that's enough excitement for one night, don't you guys?"

"Oh, the night is young yet," came a voice from the crypt door. The group turned as one and regarded the stranger in their midst.

"Who are you?" Buffy demanded warily. The boy looked to be about Dawn's age, with shaggy blond hair and silky black clothes that reminded her of Angel when she had first met him.

"Vampire?" Molly squeaked.

"Not a vampire," Buffy replied.

"Not human, either," Spike added. He stepped a little closer to Buffy, ready to protect her if a fight broke out. He couldn't hit humans, but whatever creature this guy turned out to be was fair game.

"It's not important who and what I am," the boy argued. "What matters is that your sister's life is in danger."

Buffy stiffened at the mention of Dawn. "What kind of danger?"

"Bringers," he replied. "And lots of them. They're attacking the school as we speak, and if we don't hurry, your sister and her friends will be dead in a matter of minutes."


	20. A Slayer's Arsenal

"Why should I believe you? How do I know I can trust you?" Buffy demanded.

The boy gave a small shrug and shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants. "Because I have an honest face?" Spike almost chuckled at that, but he could feel how tense Buffy was, and decided that if he wanted to stay in her good graces, he should probably keep his amusement to himself.

"Look," the boy continued, "we're wasting time standing around here and arguing about whether or not I'm trustworthy. I'll go alone if I must, but I can't guarantee I'll be able to save your sister. There's only one person in that building I care about protecting, and she's not it."

Buffy opened her mouth to give him a nasty retort, but Willow laid a hand on her arm.

"Maybe you should go with him," she suggested. "If Dawn really is in danger, you'll never forgive yourself if she gets hurt."  


"I can go with you," Spike added, "that is, if you want me to." 

"But what about the girls?" Buffy asked. "What if this is a trick to lure me away from them so the First can attack?"

"I can drive the girls home," Willow offered. "They'll be perfectly safe with me."

"Are you sure?" Buffy asked, giving her friend the same unreadable look that she had the night she'd entrusted Spike's care to her. Willow felt her anger begin to rise, simmering just below the surface of her calm demeanour.

"Buffy, do you think I'm incompetent? Do you think I can't get from point A to point B without dissolving into a fit of insanity? How can I prove to you that I've gotten better if you won't _trust_ me?"

"It's not that I don't trust you, Wills," Buffy assured her. "I'm just not sure if you're battle-ready yet."

Willow's ire began to boil. "I took care of the monster Anya left for those college boys. I could have incinerated the Bringers that attacked the house the night you fought the Ubervamp. I'm ready to fight. I'm ready to do what it takes to win."

The ferocity and determination on Willow's face showed the girls exactly how frightening and intimidating the normally quiet woman could be. The Slayer stared at her best friend, taken slightly aback by her sharp-tongued retort.

But this was just the proof Buffy needed. The corners of her mouth turned up in a satisfied smile. "Be safe," she told Willow, and with a curt nod to Spike, pushed past the boy in the doorway and began running hard towards the high school, her companions close on her heels.

After the three blonds had left, Willow didn't move, afraid that if she did, whatever crazy dream she had just had would dissipate and she would be left facing a very angry Buffy.

"Did you win?" Kennedy asked, frightening the witch out of her fear-induced coma. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"I, uh, think it was a stalemate," she muttered.

****

Jade and Amanda followed Dawn up the main staircase, the Bringers and the vampire close on their heels. Though she had been in worse situations than this, Dawn knew that without Buffy here to save them, the plan she'd haphazardly concocted was their only chance of escaping with their lives.

Their path twisted and turned down hallways, climbing up and up to a place where the Bringers hopefully hadn't had a chance to explore yet. Jade paused a moment to smash in the glass case on a fire axe and take it as a weapon.

The steel felt good in her hands and gave her more confidence than she had. With a determined smile, she raced after her friends.

****

Buffy pushed her muscles to the limit, making her legs cramp and her lungs burn under the strain. She could hear the solid pounding of Spike's Doc Martens not far behind her, and it was reassuring.

Soon she was running on cement instead of grass, and she made a wide turn onto Glen Avenue. For a moment she considered hijacking a lonely motorcycle that someone had foolishly left in a shady parking lot they passed. But the time it would take to hot-wire it they could make up by jumping a few fences.

Her boots once again found purchase on the yielding comfort of grass, but only shortly. Buffy leapt at someone's nicely kept white picket fence, her hands grasping the slopes of the boards and her superior strength, combined with her fear-induced adrenaline, allowed her to clear the fence all in that one smooth movement.

Spike followed her lead, but instead of vaulting the fence, he used his vampire agility to simply leap over it. _Faster than a speeding bullet_, he thought to himself, then scolded himself for sounding like the Whelp.

The boy had a little more trouble with the fence, but after the first few they encountered, he was soon flying over them with equal parts grace and speed. The three of them crossed through some two dozen yards, and on the last, they found themselves in the high school's football field.

Buffy's heart leaped into her throat, remembering a night so many years ago when she had raced through this same field to save her friends, and found herself too late. Getting into Slayer mode, she withdrew Mr. Pointy from its sheath at the small of her back. It was the only gift Kendra had ever given her, and it had served her well.

It was also the stake she would use to kill Drusilla. And she _would_ kill Dru, she vowed, to avenge her fellow Slayer's death.

She found these thoughts clouding her mind as she kicked in one of the back doors and strode into the evening-black gym. Spike entered right behind her and hovered just behind her right shoulder. The boy brought up the rear, withdrawing two hooked daggers, perfect for penetrating beneath the ribcage and tearing into the vital organs.

The only weapon Spike had brought was himself - his fangs, his night-vision, and his fierce love for Dawn. He vamped out and surveyed the enormous room. There were retractable bleachers against the left wall, benches along the right. Straight ahead of them were the locker rooms, equipment room and the coach's office; in the corner, double doors leading into the hallway.

Though he had spent a good two months in the annals of the building's basement, Spike had never ventured into the upstairs corridors. He would have to entrust any stratagems to Buffy - he'd take care of locating their quarry.

He cocked his head to the side, in a very animalistic motion, tuning his demon to the pulse of human heartbeats. Quick - no, pounding. Definitely pounding. He looked up. About…forty feet above them, and a little ways North.

But there was something else, too. "One vamp," he whispered, not wanting to make too much noise and alert the Bringers to their presence. "And by the sounds of it there are at least twelve, maybe fifteen of the First's lackeys buzzing about."

Buffy nodded solemnly, suddenly wishing that she had a full arsenal at her disposal. One to five odds weren't very good, especially when one member of your team has questionable combat skills.

She turned to the boy. "What's your name?" she demanded. He squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze. "Well?"

As he opened his mouth to reply, Spike stiffened. Buffy immediately forgot the boy and turned to him. "What is it?" she asked.

"Bringers, headed this way," he replied.

"How many?"

But before he had a chance to answer, the gym doors burst open and five Bringers stormed in. The boy readied his knives, turning the curve of the blades to his backhand. Buffy brandished her lone stake in front of her, for all the good it would do. Spike made plans to disarm one of their enemies and take its weapon for himself.

The eyeless Bringers moved towards them, a silent wall of mass destruction. Buffy tensed and tightened her muscles like a wound spring, preparing to pounce. The boy stepped up to her left side, and Spike flanked her on the right. 

He growled, a deep resonating sound that Buffy felt down to her bones, and suddenly she felt stronger, more prepared. With Spike by her side, she felt anything was possible.

Their enemies rushed them, but they were ready.

****

"This way!" Dawn cried, turning into one of the empty classrooms. Amanda recognized it as the chemistry lab, but her brain was too laden with fear to even attempt to guess at Dawn's plan.

The three girls dove into the room, and Dawn slammed the door closed behind them. Her hands searched frantically in the dark along the wall until she found what she was looking for.

With a grunt, she yanked on a lever, and there was a cacophonous buzzing, not unlike a fire alarm. An emergency light bathed the room in a red aura, and a lock-down procedure began.

Metal shutters slammed down over the windows, the door was clamped shut - airtight, they knew. Jade's ears popped as a negative air pressure was created, so that when the door was opened, air would rush in, not out.

"It's in case of chemical contamination," Dawn explained. "Buffy's friend Xander was in charge of building the school - he told me about this. This room is completely locked down; we'll be safe for a while."

"How long is a while?" Amanda asked.

Dawn shrugged. "Long enough to make a plan," she replied.

Jade hopped up onto one of the counters, wedging herself between a sink and a gas spout. She kept the axe in her lap, not wanting to let it out of her sight in case she might need to use it in a hurry.

"So, plan away," she said. Her and Amanda both looked at Dawn expectantly. She fidgeted under their scrutiny.

"Well, this is kind of as far as I got. I'm not a plan-maker. I'm a get-in-the-wayer. This was just the product of spending too many nights hanging with my sister's friends."

"So, what," Amanda asked, panic creeping into her voice, "we just wait until those creeps get tired of waiting for us to come out and break down the door?"

"I'm with Amanda. We need to prepare for battle," Jade piped in.

"Wait, I never said anything about a _battle_," Amanda corrected.

Jade hopped from her perch, swinging the axe deftly in her hands. "No, but we obviously can't just wait here for them to come and tear us to pieces."

Amanda visibly quailed at Jade's terminology, and Dawn crossed her arms over her chest. "Why don't we lay off the theatrics for a while Jade. I think we're all scared enough as it is without you making things worse."

"Me making things worse? I'm the one who said we should just fight that vamp. If we had, we would've been out of here before the Bringers even knew we'd been here. It was _your_ idea to run, so it was _you_ who got us into this mess!"

"What?! No way, I'm not the one who's been all 'smash, kill, destroy'! If anything, you're the one we should be blaming. You had to go explore the blood on the floor - that's probably what alerted the vamp that there was more food to eat!"

"Oh, please! That is the lamest accusation I've _ever heard_."

"Uh, guys…"

"Well at least I don't pretend to be someone I'm not. I mean, look at you! You're carrying around that axe like some kind of warrior. But warrior you're _not_. And your clothes? You might be trying to look like some kind of bad-ass, but you're not one, you poser!"

"POSER! I can't believe you just called me a poser!"

"Well I can't believe -"

"Guys!!" Amanda yelled.

"WHAT?!!" they yelled back, eyes slitted and hands balled into fists.

"Help?" she whimpered. The girls whipped around to find their friend in the clutches of another vampire, the night janitor lying dead on the floor.

Just then the door began to shake under the vicious attack of the Bringers. Dawn thought idly, 'Out of the frying pan, into the fire,' before retrieving the stake from her bag and lunging for the vampire.

****

The first Bringer went down quickly, it's throat slashed by the boy's blades. Blood spilled onto the floor, and Buffy was reminded of prom night back at Hemery, when she'd battled Lothos and burned down the gym.

Spike snatched up the felled demon's knife and immediately leapt into the fight. Though weapons weren't really his style, not having one put him at a disadvantage. He plunged the ceremonial blade into the closest Bringer's chest, grinning in satisfaction as it slid in to the hilt and blood came oozing from its mouth.

Buffy kicked the knife from the grasp of the Bringer she was fighting and gave it a solid roundhouse to the face, sending it reeling back a few feet. Then she stepped in close and slammed the heel of her hand into its face, cracking its nose and pushing the bone into its brain, killing it immediately.

Only two Bringers were left, but these had hung back, and Buffy soon saw why. Each brandished swords that flashed with some form of magical fire. One of the demons reached out and touched the tip of his blade to a bench, and fire spread down the metal and onto the wood, quickly consuming it.

Buffy took a quick tally. Spike was highly flammable, and both she and the boy would at the very least receive first-degree burns from getting too close to the flaming metal. The only things they had to fight with were close-combat weapons, and those simply wouldn't do.

The Bringers began edging closer to them, and Buffy felt Spike twitch beside her. Fire made him nervous, especially after she'd burned a church down around him, which ended with him charred and wheelchair-bound.

Then she had an idea. "Cover me," she said, and ran towards the equipment room. The Bringers turned towards the sound of her feet thumping against the ground, and though they couldn't see her, she knew they could hit her if they got the chance.

But they didn't. The boy threw one of his daggers and it found purchase in the shoulder of the Bringer closest to Buffy. The force of the impact caused the demon to lose its balance and it hit the ground, giving Buffy the extra time she needed to break the lock on the doorknob and push her way in.

Spike rushed the other Bringer, moving so quickly it didn't have a chance to react. He lashed out, sliced its stomach, then darted out of range. Blood began seeping from its wound, but it took no notice, instead swinging the sword dangerously close to Spike's face.

Buffy came out of the equipment room then, pushing an activity cart ahead of her. Basketballs, ski poles, tennis rackets, bows and quivers…in the Slayer's hands, it was her arsenal.

She pegged the Bringer attacking Spike in the back of the head with a basketball. Then she tossed a ski pole to the vampire. He wasted no time in impaling the demon, forcing the blunt-tipped weapon (it is a school, after all) through layers of robe, skin and muscle, and then through the gaps in the ribcage to pierce its heart.

The other Bringer had gotten to its feet and attacked the boy, grazing his arm with the flaming sword. He cried out in pain, but the cry soon turned into one of anger and rage as he wrenched the weapon from his enemy's grasp and turned it against him.

Buffy saw the bloodstained tip of the sword just before the Bringer's body burst into flames. It screamed - a raw, primal sound, since it had no tongue to articulate with. The boy pulled the blade from the body and the scream died as it hit the floor, chunks of charred flesh falling off with the impact.

"You okay?" Spike asked the boy, who only nodded as he gingerly touched his burnt and bleeding arm. Then both males turned to Buffy, clearly looking to her to make the next decision.

"Grab some weapons. We're heading out."

****

The vampire used Amanda as a shield, knowing the girls wouldn't go through their friend to kill it. This only served to piss Jade off. She could only watch as the vamp lashed out at Dawn, sending her sprawling across the floor.

Dawn wiped blood from her nose, and glared at the vamp, who tossed her blond hair over her shoulders and grinned. The girl sneered and could almost hear the growl she wanted to let loose.

'Just one hit', she thought, 'and she'll let go of Amanda.' She exchanged a look with Jade, and they both thought the same thing: rush her.

Dawn climbed unsteadily to her feet, trying to make the vampire think she was out of the fight. Jade hefted the axe clumsily, appearing for all the world like she didn't have the strength to cleave the demon's head off.

"Leave us alone!" she squeaked, making sure to add a sniffle at the end. _Make her think she's won, make her think she's won_… The vampire grinned, bloody fangs glistening in the red ambience lighting, before her face descended on her captive's neck.

In the instant the vampire turned her attention from her next meals to the artery pulsing beneath Amanda's skin, Dawn and Jade ran at them, knocking them over. Amanda landed on top of the she-vamp, loosening its grip on her. Smartly, she rolled away while she could, and watched in awe and fascination as Dawn plunged her stake into the demons' heart.

The vampire screamed, then burst into a cloud of dust, causing Amanda to cough. The three girls stared at one another, the pounding on the door echoing the pounding of their hearts.

Then the sound of creaking metal invaded the room, and the girls winced. Amanda covered her ears, and Jade looked back to see a hand creeping between the loosened hinges and the wall.

She walked calmly over to the door, and slammed the flat head of the axe against the door, effectively amputating the Bringer's hand. It fell lifelessly to the floor, and an unearthly scream resonated in the hall.

"What's going on?" Amanda whispered, drawing herself into a ball. Dawn looked on her with sympathy, but had no words to explain it. Except maybe…

"Vampires are real. So are a lot of other monsters, like werewolves and ghouls. Sunnydale is the epicentre of all things evil - this school is built on top of the Hellmouth, a portal to, well, Hell."

The girls stared at one another, one wide-eyed, the other hesitant.

"Well, I suppose that explains a lot," Amanda replied. Then she smiled wanly. "I guess this means we fight, huh?"

"We fight," Jade confirmed. "But we need a plan."


	21. Potential

_A/N: Okay, here it is - the final chapter of part one. I probably won't begin writing part two until around Christmas (and winter break, yay!) so maybe you should read this slowly... I think this chapter answers a question or two, but raises a whole ton, so if you're confused, ask, and if I can clarify without ruining the plot, I will. Okay. Now, go ahead and read. And review dangit! I can't survive without reviews!!   
  
**P.S. This chapter is rated R for semi-graphic violence and one solid expletive.**   
Actually, there's a couple, but only one that might upset someone. Heh.   
  
~Chelle~_

  
  
  


When the door to the chemistry lab was finally forced open, the Bringers found an empty room. They turned their sightless faces to and fro, picking up the ambience noises that hummed and pinged around them.

The leader (or at least the one who was in front) stepped cautiously into the room, not believing that the three girls could have found a way to escape from this room when he could not find a way in. He walked down the first row of sinks and pipes, listening.

One step. Two steps. The Bringer paused as he noticed a hissing noise in front of him and to the left. Three steps. He turned an ear towards the sound and moved to take another step.

__

Click. FWOOOOOSH!!!

The Bringer felt the heat moments before his body erupted in flames. Shrieking, he stumbled backwards into his comrades and together they fell into a smouldering heap.

Dawn cranked the gas valve closed and tossed the Bunsen lighter to the floor as she raced past the burning Bringers and out the door, her friends on her heels. They were met with the remaining five demons, but Jade wasted no time and cleaved her axe through the air, effectively chopping the nearest one in two.

Amanda pulled a bottle out of the sac she carried and threw it at one of the Bringers. It broke open and immediately its skin began to burn. She grabbed another bottle and hurled it, not even bothering to check the labels - she had only chosen the most corrosive chemicals, so it really didn't matter what she picked.

A hand grabbed Dawn's shoulder and she whipped around, coming face-to-face with a smouldering Bringer. She tried to pull free but its grip was strong; she'd have to fight. Memory rewinding to a combat lesson Buffy had given her over the summer, she placed her foot on its knee and forced it into an arch away from her attackers body, effectively causing it to lose its balance. Then she slammed the heel of her hand into its jaw, snapping its head back. Lifting a fallen sword from the floor, she plunged it into the demon's body and watched in satisfaction as it fell to the ground, dead.

Two of the Bringers were now lying in chemically-burnt piles of flesh, which still left two to deal with. One brandished a flaming sword, and Jade wanted a challenge. She let it lunge towards her and at the last moment she stepped to the side. Its momentum caused it to continue past her, and she buried the axe into its back. The Bringer fell to the ground.

Amanda took the flaming sword from the dead demon's grasp and moved menacingly towards the final Bringer. It rushed towards her, but she didn't flinch. Their swords met in a clash of metal and a flurry of flames. The Bringer attacked fervently, but Amanda somehow managed to fight with equal ferocity.

She felt something burning inside her, felt it taking hold of her. It bubbled to the surface, sharpening her movements and enhancing her strength. In moments she had felled the creature, not quite knowing how, but realizing that this was just the beginning.

"She's a Potential," Dawn whispered. Jade eyed the lanky brunette sceptically, but nodded in agreement; a normal girl could not have done what Amanda just did.

Amanda glanced between the two girls and furrowed her brow. "What's a Potential?" she asked, but never received an answer because at that moment windows broke and doors burst open, and suddenly the trio was surrounded by Bringers once again.

****

Buffy led the way down the main hall, pausing only to stare at the bloody pulp that had been Shawn. 'That could have been my sister,' she thought. As if he'd read her thoughts, Spike lay a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"We'd best keep moving, love," he urged her. She nodded numbly and quickened her pace to the second floor stairs.

****

Jade grabbed Amanda's arm and pulled her back. She and Dawn flanked the Potential and held their weapons at the ready, prepared to protect the girl with their lives. Dawn took a quick count and realized that there were at least twenty Bringers closing on them.

Amanda tried to move forward but Jade pushed her back. "What are you doing?" she demanded. Jade risked a glance over her shoulder at the girl.

"These demons are here to kill you," she responded with frankness. "It's my job to protect you…well, sort of."

"I don't get it," Amanda muttered, fear evident in her features.

"Neither do I," Jade whispered and turned to face the crowd of demons once more. As one, the Bringers closed around the teens in a wall of solid menace. "Lord help us," Jade prayed as she launched the preliminary blow that separated a Bringer from its head.

****

The sound of breaking glass caused Spike's unbeating heart to…well, it didn't beat, or even jump, of course, but he certainly felt anxious and more than a little concerned for his Nibblet.

Buffy, driven by fear-induced adrenaline, practically leapt up the last flight of stairs. Metal meeting metal rang in her ears, and she stifled a scream as she saw her sister standing in the middle of a heated battle, sweaty, bloody and, surprisingly, holding her own.

Despite the fact that her sister was in no way defeated, Buffy nevertheless furiously launched herself into the fray and took out two Bringers simultaneously. Spike came right behind her and cracked two demon skulls together, getting them out of the way - he'd kill them later.

The boy knelt at the top of the stairs and knocked an arrow into place. He looked up and took aim at the Bringer fighting Jade and pulled back the string. The Bringer grabbed her by the neck and lifted her a foot off the ground; high enough to piss her off. She grasped its wrists and pulled her feet up, placing them on the demon's face. It turned its head to and fro, trying to dispel her, but she persisted. Finally the soles of her shoes rested against her enemy's jaw line and with a firm push she snapped its neck.

As the Bringer died they fell to the ground and Jade realized in horror that Zeke was here, he was firing an arrow, and where she had once stood there was now a clear path to Dawn.

The image from her dream flashed before her eyes. Zeke standing menacingly behind Dawn, Dawn's dead body lying beside her, the burning Ubervamp as she thrust the torch into its body…this was the consequence of revealing herself. She would lose everyone she cared about, one at a time, until there was no one left that knew her name, no one left to tell her secret.

__

No! Jade closed her eyes and focused, pushing the sounds of the raging battle from her head, concentrating only on the magic. A ward of protection was simple enough. She formed the spell in her mind and then released it from her fingers.

The arrow hovered in the air above her, inches from Dawn's unsuspecting skull. Jade stood slowly and plucked it from the air. She turned it over in her hands, the emotions from earlier, of hate and fear and anger and loss, warred in her heart before she finally let them go as she plunged the stick into the face of the nearest Bringer.

She met Zeke's eyes over the melee, and she sent him a message with her glare: _Fuck you!_ He tossed the bow to the side and drew his daggers; she beat the shit out of a Bringer who thought he could take her.

Buffy and Spike made short work of the Bringers that opposed them, cutting a path to Dawn and Amanda. They reached the two girls and Spike stepped between Amanda and the demon she was fighting, tearing into it with his bare hands, punching and gouging until his fear for Dawn was replaced with satisfaction from the carnage he'd created.

Buffy pulled her sister into a quick hug before turning her left and right, inspecting her wounds. A few shallow cuts, a bruised shoulder, but otherwise she seemed fine. Dawn gave her a crooked smile before Buffy launched back into the battle.

There were only about ten Bringers left, Zeke having loosed his deadly knives on several unsuspecting victims while Buffy and Spike killed quickly and efficiently. The young girls willingly stepped out of the fight for a while and watched the others work.

Zeke was quick with his daggers, felling demons before his hands even appeared to move. Buffy and Spike fought like a well-oiled machine, back to back, and when one sensed the other was in trouble, they switched positions. It never ceased to amaze Dawn how beautiful the duo looked when they fought, whether partners or enemies; one of the best knock-out drag-out battles she'd seen was between the two blonds.

Amanda watched the scene with growing fascination. She'd never dreamed that demons were real, yet when Spike morphed into vamp face she found she wasn't frightened. In fact, what she really wanted to do was ask questions until she was blue in the face, but that could wait until after the life or death altercation before her.

Jade, on the other hand, wasn't paying any attention to her surroundings. She had sunk against the wall, her eyes unfocused and her arms hanging limp at her sides. The images that flashed before her eyes were not of blond warriors and dead demons, but rather a piece of the never-ending puzzle being cryptically acted out for her by the Powers That Be.

****

She felt the scratchy sand beneath her cheek and palms. _Wasn't I on the mesa?_ She stood with some difficulty and discovered that she was standing in what could only be described as a giant sandbox of a desert. 

"Ah, there you are," came a voice behind her. She turned around and had to squint against the sun. Black leather, check. Platinum locks, check. But who was this guy?

"You don't know me," he answered as if she'd voiced her query aloud, the cockney timbre of his voice sending a shiver up her spine. He grinned wolfishly at her as she visibly quailed from him.

"You're a vampire," she whispered, unconsciously taking a step away from him. His hearty laugh came from deep inside his chest, but it was patronizing and sinister.

"Well now," he murmured, closing the distance between them in three swift strides, "how did you now that, eh?" A cold hand reached out and stroked her cheek; she swallowed the scream that threatened to leap from between her clenched teeth.

Another man appeared over his shoulder, and her eyes widened. It was this vampire, but very human, very…humble. Not at all the cocky ass that was descending upon her neck.

"Leave her alone!" the tweed-clad man demanded, his voice wavering and not at all convincing. The vampire pulled away from her like she had burned him. He growled, then turned towards his counterpart.

Suddenly the two men were fighting, the dark one pummelling the light one into submission. Tara appeared beside her.

"What do you see?" she asked the girl. A delicate frown, a tilt of the head.

"They are the same man, the good and the evil warring. The evil appears to be winning."

Tara nodded. "That is how it appears, but what do you _see_," she pressed.

That's when the girl noticed the woman standing off to the side, her blond hair streaming in a non-existent breeze. Her pure white gown flowed like quicksilver around her ankles. The sunlight glinted off her image and she glowed like something holy.

And it was in the instant that the mysterious woman approached the men and touched them, bringing them together into one being, minus glasses, minus duster, that the girl realized who the woman was.

"Buffy?" she whispered. The woman didn't look up from where she held the sobbing man in her arms, the man who on the surface looked menacing, but wore his heart on his sleeve.

Tara touched her arm. "You should ask them. It's what you came here for."

The girl nodded and walked towards the pair huddled in the sand. Buffy looked up as she approached and she seemed benevolent. 

"There's something I need to know," the girl asked. Buffy didn't respond, only regarded her with curiosity. The man looked up at her and the girl couldn't help but stare back. She knew him, she'd met him somewhere, but…she couldn't recall where.

"Who am I?" she asked, eyes never leaving the blue ones that searched her own.

"You know who you are," Buffy replied, "but you deny it. You run from the truth in an effort to avoid pain, but that is not your path, daughter. You _are _pain. You _are_ destruction. And you are also our only hope."

****

Buffy was fighting three stubborn Bringers and didn't notice when Spike fell to the ground, a demon at his neck. He struggled, but it gripped his neck firmly. He felt it pulling, felt it stretching, and suddenly realized he was about to be beheaded.

He tried to call out, tried to yell to Buffy, but his windpipe was closed, and all the energy he had left was directed toward extricating himself from the living guillotine.

And then the demon was falling on top of him. He looked over the dead Bringer's shoulder and saw Dawn standing there, knife in hand, hands covered in his assailant's blood. She had sliced its throat. For him.

Despite the pain in his neck, he gathered the girl in his arms. Dawn felt numb. She couldn't feel his strong body wrapped securely around hers, couldn't feel the slick liquid on her hands. Which was probably good, because if she could feel it oozing between her fingers, she would have retched.

Never before had she truly bloodied her hands. It was different when she had cut herself; she was scared and angry and it had hurt. But this, this was…death. She had dealt death with a knife which she still clutched in her hand.

__

Is this how Faith felt?

The knife dropped to the floor.

****

"Why am I the only hope? Can't you have another hope?" the girl begged. "I don't think I can bear this weight on my shoulders."

Buffy smiled. "Don't worry, my child. You are not alone. You will never again be alone."

"Why is that?"

"Because you've found me," Buffy answered, as if it were the most obvious answer. The girl nodded in understanding.

"Then I shall go," she whispered, and disappeared.

****

Jade awoke to find Zeke hovering above her. She sat up quickly and took in her surroundings. All the Bringers were dead, and Buffy was currently in deep conversation with Amanda. Spike and Dawn were standing at a nearby water fountain and he was helping her wash blood from her hands.

Zeke reached out to touch her, but Jade pulled away in disgust. "I thought you were done killing my friends," she spat.

She was satisfied to see pain cross his features before settling once again into his mask of indifference. Glaring hatefully at him once more (for good measure), she rose to her feet and cautiously approached Buffy.

"I need to ask you something," the girl spoke, interrupting the conversation between the Slayer and her protégé. Buffy looked at her quizzically. The look in Jade's eyes made her uneasy, especially given the way she had fought: clearly well-trained and her animal ferocity rivalled her own. She nodded and allowed the girl to speak.

Jade stared at her intently before speaking. "You're strong; stronger than a human. And I know the man with you is a vampire."

Spike looked up when he was mentioned. If he hadn't been curious before, he was now.

"You're right," Buffy admitted. Jade didn't respond. She'd known the answer. The vision had told her.

"You're the Slayer - the one girl chosen in all the world to fight the forces of darkness. You are destined to stand alone, but…you don't. You are unconventional. And that is why I'm here."

"I don't understand," the Slayer replied. The others had begun to form a circle around the women, watching the conversation like a tennis match.

"Neither did I, but you showed me. I cannot run from my destiny any longer - it has found me."

"Jade," Zeke growled warningly, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"This is it, Zeke. This is what we've been searching for," she whispered. He stared at her, a mixture of anger, fear and expectation on his face.

"I've been searching for the Warrior. I was told I would meet you, but I didn't know - I had no idea -"

"Get on with it!" Amanda yelled, clearly becoming agitated by all the cryptic talk that she didn't understand.

"I am the Prophet," Jade said, a tranquility in her voice that surprised even her. She knelt before Buffy and bowed her head.

"I am here to serve you."


End file.
